We have been to see Jolly Old Saint Nicholas.
We have asked for fancy electronic gaming systems and very expensive Legos.
We have also pressed our luck and asked for a RETIRED Lego set, which is no longer sold in stores, people, and Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, bless his heart, leaned his ear this way and whispered to the boy, “I am pretty sure we have one of those Lego sets sitting on a counter at the North Pole.”
Oh, Santa, you make my life miserable, and I am tempted to rat out your dirty little secret for that one.
However, the hour-long wait in a line that held no fewer than 84,000 people was worth it, for the 90 seconds that the boy had to sit on his lap and rattle off the list of his heart’s desires was a precious moment in childhood, to be certain.
I wish that I could keep him little forever.
Also, it should be noted that some children dress up to go see Santa Claus each year. They wear their red sweaters; they wear their red-and-green plaid shirts; they wear dresses adorned with snowflakes.
The boy’s good buddy, Enzo, stood in line to see Santa with us on Friday night, too. Enzo wore a great little sweater, and looked absolutely dashing. He was perfectly attired for his annual photo opportunity with the big guy in the red suit.
And us? We went for the urban/punk look this year. The boy wore his favorite pair of sweats, which just happened to have ranch dressing from lunch slopped all over one of the legs, and we wore our black sweatshirt with the skull and crossbones on it.
Oh! And the boy wore his best pair of scuffed-up, bright yellow Crocs, too.
The outfit simply screamed, “I am ready for Christmas!”