The Nerd and I took the girls to his company’s annual Christmas shindig for the employees’ families. Let me just say, the Nerd works with the woman who heads up these events, and why she is working in HR when clearly should be an event coordinator to the celebrities is beyond me. Girlfriend is amazing: every kid met Santa and Mrs. Claus, dropped off their letters, got faces painted, airbrush tatoos, one Christmas gift, a bag of goodies from the candy shop, and free snacks. They mingled with elves, Frosty the Snowman, and the Gingerbread Man. They had live caroling from a choir. I can barely pull off a birthday party for a 6 year old.
It’s always a wonderful thing for the girls, because the whole Santa experience is so magical. When they met him, he naturally asked what they wanted.
Santa (to Punkin): And what would you like for Christmas this year, since you’re the big sister?
Punkin: Colorful stuff for my room, please.
(Me thinking: Yes! I got this. I already snagged a bright pink area rug, and a canopy tent for her reading nook. I’m good to go.)
Santa: Oh, well that’s nice! I certainly think we can do that.
(Me: Watch it, Santa. Let’s not make promises that you most certainly don’t intend to keep, since it will be my wallet getting hit.)
We’re here to shatter your Christmas dreams, but still take credit for the good stuff. Ho. Ho. Ho. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Santa: How about a pillow that lights up with bright colors?
(Me: Mayday! Mayday! Abort. We do NOT have a light up pillow, Santa. So unless you’re actually making a midnight stop by our tree, shut it.)
Punkin: Ooh, yeah! I would love that.
(Me: Santa, meet me in the parking lot after this.)
Crap. Now what? Freakin Santa has no business saying anything beyond, “Ho ho ho!” and, “We’ll see if the elves have those in stock,” because last time I checked, Santa wasn’t whipping out the card for those Amazon orders.
I get home and Google stupid light up pillows.
They cost $40 each.
Santa is not bringing a $40 light up pillow for Christmas. Neither are Mommy or Daddy. And now I have to come up with yet another reason that Santa didn’t bring the gift he suggested. Punkin’s going to start wondering why so many machines break down at the North Pole.
I had this Christmas owned, Santa. See if I leave you any cookies this year.
