You may not have known this, since I was totally not posting for most of the month of December due to a mighty brain-sucking work project and holiday obligations and lack of daylight making me hibernate, but anyway: Little Miss Preschooler? Totally not down with Santa in 2008.
As in, persona non grata.
As in, mumble in his general direction at the Christmas tree farm, but HELL NO he is not coming in our house, no matter what he’s slinging in that sack. She even went so far as to say, “Mama, you and Daddy can get me the easel. I don’t want presents from Santa EVER OF MY LIFE.” (plus a lot of hand gestures).
It was looking like a blacklist year for Jolly Old Saint Nick.
But, in a surprising turn of events in the final hours of Christmas Eve up in Littletown, Indiana, a deal was struck. We would leave Santa his milk and cookies. And a carrot for the reindeer. And he could leave presents to his heart’s content. But he was not, under any circumstances, to enter my parents’ home office where Bird slept on an inflatable mattress. Make no mistake, Cringle. You’ve been warned.