It was freaking funtabulicous! (Lovely word, isn't it? It's going to be the next *amazing!* Let's make it happen, y'all!) Seriously. I just adore how magical Christmas is for the kids.
Miss Chatterbox was in awe of the Big Guy in Red. In fact, she was practically speechless. Though, only for the duration of her visit with him. The Bun was a little unsure, but warmed up and Jellybean thought he was the bees knees. I loved all the pictures so much, I ponied up the extra money to get the flash drive with ALL the pictures.
Here is one of my favs.
|Baby Jazz Hands!|
This is my other favorite! This Santa is the shit.
|She farted on me. I can't believe it. Can I give her back, yet?|
My kids wore out Santa in less than 5 minutes. Pictures don't lie, y'all. That must be a record or something.
Anywho, I noticed something while waiting in line. All the parents, with more than 1 kid, had either matching or coordinating Christmas outfits. Seriously? I did not get this memo. I would say who does that, but, apparently, all of Pinterest ALREADY KNEW. There are whole board dedicated to family coordinating Santa's lap pictures. I need a rule book for this shit! I thought I was doing well just to keep them in individual outfits that actually weren't stained and went together. You should see the getups they wear regularly! This was an outdoor festival at a county park, people, not pictures at a photography studio!
Next, we roasted marshmallows. Except Miss Chatterbox didn't like, "all the burnined parts, momma, will you eat that part right there for me? And that part too? You missed a part, momma."
I am now adding *burnt layer marshmallow eater* to my resume. It's right below *my shirt is a snot rag* and *ABC food throw awayer.* It's a tough life, y'all.
Then there was this moment...
That is Jellybean throwing a colossal fit on the dirt below the picnic table we were eating our marshmallows at. She was unhappy that I wouldn't let her eat the apple slice she just drug around in the gravel. Oh the horror, right! So, I did what any good parent would. I took a picture, then ignored her completely, much to the dismay of nearby spectators. Momma don't play this game and I will cut a mean side eye to anyone who tries to interfere. Holla.
In the few moments I was dealing with Little Miss Crabby Patty, The Firefighter managed to convince Miss Chatterbox and The Bun to go talk to the some minor league Hockey Players who were there signing autographs. Except The Firefighter found it amusing to get Miss Chatterbox to ask a player's girlfriend (who was sitting at the autograph table) what position she plays...
MC - Hi! What position do you play?
GF - Oh, I don't play. He does.
MC - (disinterested glance at boy) Why not? You don't like boys?
The Firefighter - (laughcoughsnortchucklecough)
Boys are so juvenile.
Happy Wednesday and Ho Ho Ho!