We took the boys to visit The Jolly One a few weeks ago. That's the one part of holiday insanity that I checked off the list early. Wanna hear what's not done? Christmas cards, most of my shopping, any gift wrapping, house cleaning, online ordering, and magical moments of merriment. Whatever.
So we're waiting in line to visit St. Nick, about six people from the front of the line. Fat Baby waves his arms and yells with his booming voice, "HEY SANTA!!!!! IT'S US!!!! THE PRESIDENT AND FAT BABY!"
I think it's cool that my kids have never been frightened of Santa. I have great pictures of both of them every year. Of course, being the kind of mom I am--I would love the screaming in terror pictures, too. (Maybe even more).
Apparently the preschool is using the whole "most wonderful time of the year" thing to bribe the munchkins into behaving well. Who can blame them? If I had to be up there every day, I'd pull out every kind of bribery known to man. So, yeah Santa's watching, who's on the good list and all that...and here's proof.
I pick up the boys from school and it's an immediate and constant battle.
"He's touching me!"
"Make him be quiet!"
So when I heard "Fat Baby won't let go of my ear!", I pulled down my rear-view mirror and said, "Put your hands in your lap. Do not touch your brother. I am watching you."
To which Fat Baby replied, "You're not Sanda Cwause and you're NOT watching me!"
And a bonus, since I missed the Halloween time frame:
Me: "What do you say when you ring the doorbell on Halloween, Fat Baby?"
FB: Dick or Treat!