Sometimes you see a man dressed as Santa..or maybe it’s not a costume(?)..walking a llama dressed as Madonna down the street. And you better hope you have a camera at this time, and if you stupidly don’t, even though you’re a photographer, then you better hope you have your phone on you. And if you stupidly don’t, even though you take your phone everywhere, then you better hope your husband has his phone on him. And when he does, you rejoice and pull over for a picture:
Both Santa and Llama Madonna (accidentally?) touched my butt. One or both of them may have grunted suggestively at me.
I have a very strange relationship with the holiday season. When I’m in it I’m really in it, all aglow in colors and lights and chocolates and songs. And when I’m out of it, on the new year other side of things, I’m always a little too glad that it’s not the holiday season. I have this nightmare, every April or so. In it, the sun sets around 4:45 pm and I feel a little achy and sniffly like I’m coming down with something, and it feels suffocating and horrid. And I’m usually late to catch a school bus or something. Then I wake up to the early spring birds and I’m SO GLAD it’s April. I don’t really get it. I’m enjoying myself quite finely these days, even with the 4:30 pm sunsets and all. And that “Carols of the Bells” song. It gives me quite the rush.
And really, many things do.
Last week, feeling desperately cabin-feverish, I took the kids to the happiest place on earth..or is it the artificially smelliest place on earth…? I know for a fact it’s one of New England’s biggest tourist attractions – Yankee Candle Village. I know I didn’t make any friends when I yelled, “Ohhhh…lord, no!” while smelling the particularly smelly new candles, but Scarlet had really wanted to go see Santa and visit the toy/candy store. All I can say is, never go while pregnant or hungover.
Des was..amused/amazed/gassy/bewildered/hungover? He looked like how we all felt there.
And don’t adjust your monitors, or think I’ve lost a good sense of white balance. This is just Des under a blacklight:
We enjoyed the lit Christmas village:
And then we went home, our nasal passages unforgiving. Two days later we had friends over I had met back when I had Scarlet, but had never gotten to spend time with yet. We went back to the Santa Llama Farm (not its real name). This is Scarlet looking out the store window for Santa.
Three-year-olds..they’re…well, unpredictable. There are kids Scarlet gets along with better than others. She’s not a bully/biter/kicker/aggressor, but she is a screamer at times. You just never know until you know. And I’ll let these pictures tell the story of Scarlet and her new friend:
I think they’re talking about shoes here (below):
And that’s about as good as it gets…friendship.