There are about 7,526,913 things Alexis would rather do than sit in Santa's lap. On that list is stab Dora in the face, kick a kitten, and eat nothing but chocolate for a month, so you know it's BAD. Really, really bad. (She's still the only kid I know who thinks lima beans are the best. food. ever.)
We've tried every year, of course. It's our duty as parents to find ways to torture our child and exploit her weaknesses. She managed to sit with him her first Christmas (pretty reluctantly, but TOO BAD SO SAD when you haven't figured out how to walk on your own). Since then, she has, at best, made it to within smelling distance of him. In fact, last year we stood in line for Santa for 45 minutes, her swearing up and down and left and right that she was going to sit on his lap. When it was her turn, however, she walked up to him, scrunched up her face, said he smelled like pee, and ran away bawling.
It was a proud, proud moment.
Despite not actually wanting to touch the Big Guy, Alexis has always stalked him. She has stood in malls, staring from a safe distance. She has waved to him and even blown him kisses, but only when there enough room to parallel park a school bus between the two of them. It has become a sort of joke around our house as Alexis will swear on the life of her favorite dog that she wants to talk to him, but we know she's not going to do it. Ever.
So when she insisted that she wanted to stop and wave to him at a mall in Indianapolis on Black Friday, I knew how the story would end. There was absolutely no line at all and kids NEVER take advantage of convenience, so I assumed we would stand there for about ten minutes before she flipped out. Then she would ask to return once the line was wrapped around the mall, out the door, and down the street.
Well, either she smoked some crack when I wasn't looking, Aunt Teresa (who was with us) is magical, or she's growing up.
I was stunned silent. STUNNED SILENT. That never happens to me.
Obviously, this monumental occasion demanded that I buy the crappy mall Santa photo. I quickly glanced through the three or so choices and opted to get a 5x7 of the one that Alexis looked best in.
$17 dollars and a few hours later, I looked back at the photo. In my haste to make a selection before the kid realized the error of her ways and lost her shizznet, I hadn't bothered to so much as glance at Santa. I mean, he's a pro. He should know to not make Creepy-I'm-About-to-Murder-Your-Kid Face, right?
Apparently not.