A Conversation with Santa

Last Friday, we went to visit with Santa. The three of us had been counting down the days, especially Bailey. And by the looks of this photo, it was obviously an awesome visit.

But first, let's rewind and tell the whole story shall we?



We rode up with Daddy early in the morning, and while he went to work, we drove his car to eat breakfast together, run some errands (a.k.a. stop at a couple stores), and then off to Wonderscope for a little while. After making lots and lots of artwork there (our new ritual as of the last three months) we picked Daddy back up, went to lunch and then off to drop off our adopt-a-family packages. After that, Daddy was all ours and we headed to what Bailey affectionately refers to as the Yellow Mall and went to hunt down a Santa. I had brought along an extra change of clothes but then had my own change of heart when I came to terms with the fact I know she hates dresses so I shouldn't make her wear one when she was perfectly fine in the clothing she had on (a holiday shirt). Santa was on lunch so we explored a bit as we waited and then there he was and we were first in line (until I let the mother who was actually there first get in front of us) and we couldn't wait to see the jolly big guy!

And then it happened...it was our turn and suddenly Bailey burrowed into Daddy (even though I told him to STOP carrying her) and wanted nothing to do with Mr. C. She became Bailey the Drama Queen. She made the nastiest of faces and then ran from Ol' St. Nick towards the mall doors. She didn't want to come back with us in line so we told the next family to go ahead because we weren't going to hold up the line for this. And after conversing with her, we told her she was done for now. She had tears in her eyes and we couldn't figure out if she was just scared or if it was because we told her this was scheduled for the day and if she didn't do as we all planned, she wasn't getting a pretzel at her favorite pretzel shop or playing in the play area. I know, we're harsh.

After a bit of sad expressions and some minor talking, Bailey decided she wanted to try it again. So we approached Santa once the line was empty and as soon as we approached him...it happened again. This time we had real tears and she just kept shaking her head and hid behind Daddy. We were both even more agitated at this point and Daddy used a fierce tone as he announced she was done for the day, scooped her up, we put her coat back on for the second time and headed straight for the car without passing Go, Jail or any stop in between. We threw out words and phrases just as we had on the first attempt like, "no pretzel," "and, wow, we really had wanted a pretzel too," "now Santa won't know what to get you since you didn't tell him," "did you want to be on the naughty list?" and anything else our irrational minds could have thought up.

Once at the car, I saw Daddy's fuming face and asked him nicely to take a walk so I could talk to Bailey alone. On the way to the car, it started to feel a bit off. We weren't handling this the right way at all and I was doing a mild version of what I'd hoped to never do. I spoke with Bailey about what happened and this is one of the things that had set us both off in the beginning was that she refused to talk to us, and that gets her in a LOT of trouble lately. She wouldn't speak until I asked if she'd like to go back into the mall and get a toy out one of the machines and she was very excited, ears perked up and made the funniest of happy faces. And then I threw out, "but you need to sit with Santa first." Her expression turned quickly to a sad and desolate one and I realized this wasn't just a dramatic fit where she acts shy when she's not. There was a bit of genuine hesitancy on her part.

So, after enough of my talking and persisting she spoke up and said she'd wanted us to sit with her with Santa. Now, that was annoying because we'd offered SEVERAL times. Finally, I asked her if she'd like to try again and she said she did. And then I told her, that even if she got up to him and changed her mind, we'd go ahead and get a pretzel and go play for a bit because it was our family time and there's nothing wrong with being afraid. I wasn't sure I wanted to ruin our day over fear.

Now if you'd like to know how we went from one extreme to the next, I really thought about how I feel about children being forced to sit on Santa's lap as they're screaming, crying and scared (which I refuse to do to her) and that it's illogical to punish someone for their fears. I also thought about when my little brother screamed louder than a child could ever scream when he was forced to sit on Santa's lap and how horribly angry my father was for the embarrassment. And I realized, even though we hadn't acted quite the same, it was closer than I'd ever wanted to. (In our defense, Bailey has been having an issue with saying one thing and then changing her mind once it's too late, so we were originally reacting to that.)

But we went inside with a different mindset and Bailey did too and as we went towards Santa and up the empty line and approached the big guy for the third time, expecting it to all go the same, here was Santa on the floor.

He asked her about her shirt and played a game about what was on it and she finally informed him it was a penguin, since he obviously couldn't tell. And Bailey asked us to sit with her and she fully intended to sit on one of our knees, until Santa asked while we were on either side of him if she would mind sitting on his lap for a picture for us, and she nodded and did so easily. We both crept away, shocked beyond our wildest dreams and the picture lady hadn't a clue what was going on. The mother before us was taking her sweetest time going through the shots, not able to make up her mind which one she wanted. Neither one of us cared anymore about the picture, we were too busy being astonished that the third time was the charm.

Then the camerawoman looked up and was just as shocked and even said so. Santa had been telling Bailey the story of Rudolph and she'd told him what she wanted for Christmas (Pixos, an alien maker, a swimming puppy, Elefun, and Gator Golf) and now they were on to another story. Bailey even faked a smile for the photo before she went back to her story. I told the camerawoman we weren't all that picky about the photos, so she got what she needed and allowed Bailey and Santa to continue with their moment together. They had bonded like nothing any of us had ever seen.

The lady at the counter and the camerawoman both wanted to know what had happened and how this all came to be. I told them that I don't believe in forcing children to sit on Santa's lap and they were grateful (as they are each year that I feel this way) and I told her we were forcing her in other ways though, and I decided to switch methods and try it again without any bribery or fear of punishment. I told her after careful thinking, I did what I knew I needed to do and always believed in. You can't make a child think they're wrong for not wanting to sit with a stranger when this is what they're taught any other time. Bailey didn't *have* to do it. While talking, all of us just kept watching Santa and Bailey together reading a book, mesmerized this was happening at all.

After Bailey was finished, Santa summoned us over and had his own burning question. He asked us what we said to her and what we did. We were both confused because we thought he did it. He's the one who magically got her on his lap. We had nothing to do with it. I told him that after we talked, I told her she didn't have to do it. He seemed please to know she chose to do it on her own and to give him a third chance and you could tell that it kind of made him sad the first two times that she wanted nothing to do with him at all. His face seemed brighter knowing she came back without in intent to sit on his lap alone and that she changed her mind after actually meeting him. And that's why he's smiling so large in those pictures.

I was too busy being starstruck that Santa asked me what kind of magic I was working with. It was a magical moment though, and a lesson was learned. A big one.