Yesterday morning we attended an annual Santa Breakfast at our church. The cafeteria hall is decked and filled with loud music, games, face-painting, greasy food, ugly sweaters and a visit from a very large man in a red suit.
A couple of years ago, this was a terrifying experience for my son. When Santa arrived, my boy grabbed onto his Dad and wouldn’t let go. Literally. I have a picture of my husband holding his arms straight out to either side, with my son dangling from his neck like a Flavor Flav necklace.
Yesterday wasn’t much different. Because when the DJ said that Santa had arrived and he was parking his sleigh outside, my son suddenly looked very nervous.
But, instead of grabbing Daddy’s neck, he grabbed his own rear end and then turned to the folks sitting at our table and announced, “I need to go poop!”