Santa

We visited Santa earlier this week at the library.  Sam was surprisingly shy and got completely tongue-tied when talking to him.  He couldn't remember what he wanted to ask for and hardly dare make eye contact.  I don't blame him either.  I'll be the first to admit that this Santa was a little sad looking; creepy even.  His cheeks were far from rosy, and his nose was definitely not cherry-like.  But he was dressed in red and his beard was white, so I guess he sorta- kinda fit the part. 

 

Max, on the other hand, had no problem with this Santa imposter.  He knew kids were getting candy canes if they sat on this old guy's lap, so he gladly obliged. 

I love the ages of my boys for Christmas this year; Sam especially.  He has become very knowledgeable with all things Christmas related; particularly those things related to being naughty and nice.  You want an example?  Okay.

This morning I was getting after the boys for whining and arguing.  I told them that I'd put them back to bed if they couldn't choose to be happy.  We made our way downstairs for breakfast and Sam said a prayer on the food that cracked me up.  Part of it went like this:

"Please bless Mom that she can be happy so she doesn't get a rump of troll in her stocking for Christmas."

See?  He's totally a Christmas expert.