"Oh, Hell No."

I should have stuck to my guns. The idea of Santa always creeped me out. I was soooooo glad last year he was young enough to get away with not going. I felt like I had to go this year. Like I would loose mom of the year 2011 if I didn't take him to sit on a creepy bearded strangers lap for 35 seconds so someone could charge me $20 for a crappy picture. So we went. And it was awful. Poor kid. He never stood a chance. We made him wait around for over an hour while we ate and fooled around and by then it was almost bedtime. Well into witching hour and just waiting in line he was going crazy screaming and crying and he didn't even know what was coming. I took him to look at Santa and he smiled and waved at him and I thought, "ok, fine. It won't be that bad, lets get it over with". But then, time came, the awe was over, and he wanted nothing to do with Santa. Or me, or Phil or the stickers and toys that were bought in bribe. Even Snoop Dog couldn't protect him. Yikes.

My lesson learned, I'm just not one of those parents who gets enjoyment out of torturing my kid with Santa. I mean, nothing wrong with it. But it's not for me. And especially since I'm creeped out by it, I'm MORE than happy to skip next year. I've already determined. Especially since there will be two likely screaming kids to traumatize. I'll wait until Sam tells me, "Hey, Mom. I'm over the trauma from when I was 21 months old I think. Lets go do this Santa thing." Then, I'll be all for it. But until then, I'll take Sam's stance of "Oh, hell no." (I'm pretty sure he said that through the screaming.)

At least he got enjoyment out of the trains.