Before my mom left to go back to South Carolina in late November, we decided to take the girls to go and see Santa. Although I had great hopes of at least one of them agreeing to sit on Santa’s lap unaccompanied (thus allowing me to sit with the other one who would no doubt be loosing her mind), that didn’t happen. Both girls had a complete and total meltdown right as we hit the end of those velvet ropes intended to keep the throngs of Santa fans under control while they waited for their audience with the big guy.
I begged and pleaded and bribed and finally got the girls to agree to sit on my lap, next to Santa. Except there wasn’t enough room on my lap when you considered the confines of Santa’s chair. So Grandma was called in as a reinforcement, the way grandmas usually are. My mom accepted the challenge and sat with Hazeline on her lap on a little stool on the left side of Santa, while I had Greenleigh on the right side.
They snapped about 10 pictures before asking if I wanted to see them. I ran over to the camera guy to see the memories that had been created, picked 1 or 2 that weren’t so terrible, then asked my mom for her opinion. She ran over, glanced at the screen, and instantly realized that she wasn’t wearing any makeup and hadn’t really done her hair that day. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but pictures with Santa tend to make it into scrapbooks. My mom then proceeded to panic…and she had left the girls with Santa, so they were panicking too. I was officially ready for this trip to Santa to be over.
I ran over to the girls to collect them from their misery, scooping up Greenleigh and grabbing Hazeline by the hand, while my mother stood staring at the photo screen discussing possibilities with the photographer like cropping her out of the photo entirely or placing a Poinsettia plant over her head.
And that’s when it happened…”That’s one good lookin’ Grandma”, Santa piped up from his big green chair.
I thought his encouragement was sweet considering how upset my mom was over the picture, but by the third, “That’s a good lookin’ Grandma”, that I began to think his intentions might not be so good. Which was only confirmed when I saw him looking her up and down and heard him ask where she lived (along with other random questions) when there was a line of children forming.
I felt torn. On one hand, sometimes it’s nice to hear that you’re pretty. And my mom really was mortified by the picture. My mom isn’t married, so at another place and time this exchange really isn’t all that taboo. But on the other hand…
OMG. That. Is. My. Mom. Her grandchildren are here to sit on your lap and tell you what they want for Christmas. And while they didn’t actually do that… Eww. Seriously, Santa, knock it off. You have Mrs. Clause back in the North Pole. Or are you now so far out of character that you have forgotten about the woman back in the North Pole slaving over Christmas cookies just for the sake of fattening you up?
Thankfully, my mom was so worried about her lack of makeup and hairspray that she was blissfully unaware of Santa’s efforts to get her digits.
So I did the only thing I could do in the situation – I grabbed my kids and mom and got the hell out of there before any of them realized that this Santa was actually on the “naughty” list. We’re not going back to that mall next year.
That is hilarious! I hope your mother found it funny.