As a related aside, did you know that it is impossible to argue logically with a toddler? There's just no way to do it. That I have found, anyway, and I'm pretty sure I've tried everything. It's a lot like trying to debate with a particularly belligerent chipmunk on amphetamines or something. I just ... there aren't words in the English language to describe it.
Santa Claus was at the day care yesterday, at the end of the day, and there was just no getting Shae to sit on his lap, or anywhere near him, really. Apparently her entire class lost their collective shit when they saw him walk past the classroom window. I should feel better knowing it's not just my kid -- my nephew Joey doesn't like Santa either, and apparently neither did my husband when he was a kid -- but yet I still feel there's something weird and unwholesome and wrong about using Santa for discipline and blackmail at this point, if Shae doesn't "get" it yet.
I tried to have a conversation with Shae about it yesterday at dinner and our discussion went something approximately like this:
ME: So I heard that Santa was at school today.
SHAE: I don't like Santa.
ME: Well if you don't like Santa, then who brings you presents?
SHAE: Santa. (She is giving me a look here, like "Duh, lady, how could you be so stupid?")
ME: How is Santa supposed to know what you want if you won't sit on his lap and tell him?
SHAE: I want a cramera. (Another look, this one more like "Are you kidding me with this, lady?")
ME: Well, I know that, but how is Santa supposed to know that?
SHAE: (Brief pause.) Mommy, Santa is creepy. (Resumes putting chicken nuggets on head, or whatever.)
And so on. In a lot of fundamental ways, she's totally right, of course: Santa kind of is a creepy weirdo stalker. But, you know, one of those benevolent ones, not the kind that lives in a cabin in the woods and drives a dirty white van filled with candy and video equipment.
So probably these pictures of her posing with the "Santa Claws" cat pillow is the best we're going to do this year. There's going to be a Santa Cow at the Chick-Fil-A this weekend, but I don't know if I really want to try to keep pushing the issue. Hopefully she'll get over it by next Christmas.
Or, you know, maybe I will.