Santa showed up at Michelle's nursery school Christmas party yesterday evening. I was there because watching kids see Santa is pretty sweet. They gaze at him as if he's larger than life, sort of like how I'd look if Eddie Vedder put me on his knee and asked me what I wanted.
Michelle told Santa she wants a Baby Alive. Her message has been consistent. That's what she told me she wanted back when I took notes last month. Rumour has it she won't be disappointed in ten days.
Kids with Santa typically follow the same pattern. At first they're cool with the big guy, because they're little blobs who don't know any better, then they fear him, because he's a white bearded stranger, and making strange with such people is probably a good idea, then they start to accept him again, because they know he'll bring them gifts. That's where both of my kids are at right now. They look at St. Nick as their money ticket. It's a lot like requesting something of the Godfather on the day of his daughter's wedding. It's a very big deal.
