The Big Guy

Hey, remember how I said Four was absolutely fantastic? How many of you laughed and laughed because you knew I was jinxing myself? Well, I'm here to say, YOU WERE RIGHT.

Oh my.

Four has taken a turn for the OMGSTAAAHP. Mila isn't just doubling down on all of the age four clichés, she running laps around them. She's testing boundaries and throwing fits and just plain refusing to do any of the things I ask her to do. Which, hmmm, this sure is interesting timing considering SANTA IS WATCHING, YOU LITTLE MONSTER.

It was about a week ago that Mila and I were in the mall shopping for things for the big sister when Mila decided that buying things for other people was stupid. She wanted to shop for herself and she expected me to buy three of everything she requested. There was an LOL doll and a dress and LEGOs and books and a little car and and and and and ... I think Mila decided to fit a year worth of requests into ten minutes. I was about to jump off a cliff (or from the second floor of the mall - that would have worked) and then Little Miss Wants It All thought she would throw herself to the ground and proceed to flail.

Flailing is funny.

Fits in the middle of the mall aren't funny.

Needless to say, I was mad enough to pull out the big threats. "Santa is RIGHT THERE!" I said while pointing towards the big guy in the red jacket. "He can see you. Do you need me to tell him what you're doing? He's going to be so disappointed in you." I went on and on, laying it on all sorts of thick.

Mila was completely unfazed. COMPLETELY. She kept yelling and flailing and carrying on, so eventually I drug her out of the mall and gave up on being productive. But not until after Mila explained, "That's not Santa."

Oh. Hmm.

"That's Santa's brother."

Well then.

"The REAL Santa is making dinner for his girlfriend."

WELL THEN. I'm not going to argue with that.