We parents spend a great deal of time warning our kids against straying from our sides and telling them to steer clear of strangers.
So it should come as no surprise that once a year, when we drag them to the mall and shove them onto the lap of an unfamiliar and quite comically dressed stranger, they would hate it.
Abby has never been scared of Santa. She's never been all that impressed with him either. She's just kind of intrigued by the whole ordeal. Santa's not a big deal at our house, and going to visit him is less about making a list and more about taking a picture. She knows this, and she endures it to get the candy cane at the end.
Caleb, in his three years of sitting with Santa, has never once liked it. The first year, he was just shy of his first birthday and terrified of the beard and the fur-lined suit. The second year, he managed to hold it together just long enough to take the picture, but only when we gave him candy and let him sit as far from Santa as the big chair would allow. This year, he was terrified from the moment Santa smiled at him. He sat shaking through the whole ordeal, clutching his shark to his chest with tears streaming down his face as he waited for us to tell him he could get down.
And Jacob, who loves all strangers everywhere, used every ounce of strength he had to alternately shriek in terror and lunge forward to try to escape Santa's clutches.
To make it up to them, we took them out for cake pops when we were done. I think Caleb in particular is a much bigger fan of the Santa that comes down the chimney when no one is looking than this guy at the mall.
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