I can't believe I just sat here and drank a WHOLE pot of Starbucks Christmas Blend coffee. I am freakin' VIBRATING, so if this contains typos...so sorry! ^shrug^
I did manage to get Dar over here on the pretense of getting the Christmas lights more securely attached to the roof before the supposedly 60 mile an hour winds that were predicted hit. Thankfully, that prediction did not come to pass. The whole storm so far has consisted of nothing but a good soaking rain which we sorely needed, so no harm, no foul (but watch it, Mike Reader! Your track record...tsktsktsk. *shakes head*).
She gave me five thousand reasons why we couldn't go to Mobile as we finished lunch, so when we got back in the car and she had her seatbelt on, I just hit the childlocks on the doors and shanghai'd her ass. I told that I just wanted to check out the mall over there and see what a picture with their Santa cost, and that it would be good exercise for both of us. I also promised to stay at least ten feet from any shoe display. This was merely a reconnaissance mission.
I actually kept my promise. She had to get a dig in, though. We were walking through Dillards and she saw the shoe display up ahead and decided to torture me by browsing through them herself (which is a much MUCH less sensual experience, let me tell you!). Well, I got her good. I noticed a conveniently placed set of mirrors that afforded me wonderful visuals of virtually the entire department. I made a mental note of a loverly pair of BCBGs I will be revisiting at a later date.
We finally made our way around the perimeter of the entire mall, and as we were leaving I realized that this mall had NO SANTA. WTF??? All I can say is that my plan for Saturday had better pan out, or ya'll (in particular Braja) just aren't getting a personalized Christmas greeting. Not to mention, I need to whisper a thing or two in the big guy's ear. A Christmas fantasy, if you get my drift. ^^groucho eyebrows^^
Heh. That reminds me of when the kids were little, taking them to see Santa every year. I always did everything in my power to get the kids whatever they asked Santa for so that they would continue to believe for as long as possible, so we always encouraged them to only ask him for the one thing that they really really wanted. El Juevo always came up with something unusual but I always seemed to be able to pull it out of my arse at the last minute, despite his rather odd tastes for a little kid. Until the year he really got into wrestling, that is.
As I've said before, the apple does not fall far from the tree, and some of my obsessive compulsive behaviors have filtered down to Egg. He started watching every single episode of every wrestling federation he could find. WWF. WCW. UWF. You name it, he watched it, and he knew every wrestler's statistics, finishing move and story line. His favorite was always Shawn Michaels, but he had a particular fascination with a tag team, Doink the Clown and his partner, Dink.
When we went to visit Santa that year, I positioned myself close enough that I could hear what the kids asked for. Ronny was predictable. He wanted Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Legos. Nice, easy, normal requests. Not the Egg. My little Juevo gets on Santa's lap and gets asked the big question, "What do you want Santa to bring you, little boy?" My darling son looks at him with big brown eyes shining with confidence in this jolly man who'd fulfilled all of his other Christmas requests and replied, "Amijitame." Santa looked at me, and I looked at Ronny, who was better at interpreting Alex's slight speech impediment than anyone. "What did he say?" I asked. Santa asked Alex the same thing and again he replied, "Amijitame. Like Doink." Ronny's eyes lit up and he piped up, "A midget of ME...He wants a midget of himself!" I was in shock. I'm good, but I'm not THAT good!
It all worked out, though. We got the kids a trampoline, and I took a bunch of Egg's old clothes and stuffed them with other old clothes for weight and sewed them together and made a miniature Alex! He played with that wrestling dummy 'midget of him' (and slept with it!) for the life of the trampoline. As he grew older, his requests grew more realistic. Now that he's grown, Christmas is a matter of clothes and computer equipment and concert tickets. But every time we are together and see a Santa Claus, my mind immediately sees that little boy and that look of complete faith, and I am transported to the days when Santa was REAL. Because that, to me, is what Christmas is all about. Childlike faith in something bigger than ourselves that can make anything happen. And I'm not afraid to dream big!