We have an awful, horrible family tradition of going to the mall to see Santa…on Christmas Eve. To avoid standing in line for hours, we have to get there by 8am. Now that we have two teens in the house…let’s just say they are less than thrilled about this tradition.
Me: “I know you don’t want to go but I just want a photo of all 4 of you. You don’t have to sit on Santa’s lap. Just stand next to the chair.”
Jimmy: “No, I’m sitting ON his lap. I’m going to make this as uncomfortable for him as it is for me.”
How to get teens to agree to visit Santa at the mall? Bribery.
Since I didn’t send Christmas cards this year (or last…or the year before…),
here is our Christmas Eve in photos:
Me: Greg, scoot closer to Jimmy. Closer. Closer. Jimmy: Why am I here? Jake and Eric: GREG!!! MOVE!!!Greg: Why the heck are you yelling at me??? (The finger sticking up is a coincidence. I think.) Jimmy: Why. Am. I. Here?Greg: Why is everyone in that huge long line behind us staring? Jimmy: Because we are freaks.The perfect, happy family. For a second…Uh. Oh. Jake has that look in his eye…Jake: Stop what? It’s just a hug. Jimmy: No. I am NOT hiding a smile.Jimmy (in his best Mom voice): Now boys. This is not a wrestling mat.Greg: And THAT is for yelling at me! Me: I’m totally blogging about this.
Me: Greg looks like the Peanuts kids when they are singing.
Jake: Yeah, the dirty one!
After all the evil glares, Jimmy appears to be the happiest of all to see Santa!
Eric: Hey Greg, wouldn’t it be cool to have a jersey of someone who actually still plays on the team???All smiles on the way out……and then back to life as usual.
One day last week, I spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut off, finishing last minute Christmas prep. I must admit I was so stressed by my to-do list that what I saw when I got home made me lose my head. And I wasn’t the only one. I walked in to find this…
And this…
I was 100% sure the guilty looking one – Brownie – was innocent. I’d have bet money it was Cookie that beheaded my “peek-a-boo Santa.”
I told the kids not to eat Santa’s cookies while I was gone but didn’t think I needed to tell Cookie not to eat Santa. Lesson learned.
I attempted to prop the head back on…
But kept finding this…
Even when Cookie wasn’t around.
A little research uncovered a disturbing find…SANTA HAS BEEN LOSING HIS HEAD A LOT!
Maybe Cookie really was as innocent as her expression.
I always visualized Santa as calm, cool and collected. Not rattled by anything. But, perhaps, he gets just as frazzled as the rest of us. And loses his head.
Photos on Flickr* show this shocking proof…
Apparently he occasionally loses his pants too…
Sometimes he can be hot headed…
Other times he blows his top…
So does Santa just have a short fuse like the rest of us?
Or is there a dog conspiracy to steal Santa’s head?
Photo: janebretl.com
Perhaps we’ll never know for sure…
But I will remind you that Brownie and Cookie are known felons.
Does the photo of them in this post remind you of something you’ve seen before? (If not, you need to read “To Catch A Thief…Again.”)
<—beheaded Santa
From “To Catch A Thief…Again”—>
P.S. You can also find videos on You Tube of Santa sans noggin. But I wouldn’t suggest searching for “Santa Lost His Head” there. You get some unexpected results. Including a case of someone who decapitated a man in Santa Maria. And a video about two turtles humping. I don’t even want to know WHY that showed up as a match.
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*Photo credit: All photos not taken by me that don’t have a photo credit listed as a caption can be found on flickr.com on the first page of search results for “Santa lost his head” or “hot headed Santa.”
Don't ask me about my kids or I will Momopolize the conversation!
