Bright and early this morning we took the boys to the annual Breakfast with Santa event coordinated by the City of Chamblee. Consistent with every year, the boys did not enjoy meeting the big man, but now the outright aversion to him has become such a tradition in itself, that if it changed I’m not sure I would know what to do.
After the torturous forced picture (which I will spare you from) we ate a lovely egg and cheese sandwich breakfast provided by the always delicious local eatery The Mad Italian. DC, my youngest, promptly spilled his drink everywhere, including my lap. You might ask why I let him run off with a container of juice in the first place, and you wouldn’t be out of line. The reason is that he adamantly refuses to let anyone help him drink out of cups because he desperately wants to emulate all things big brother Nash. I can’t fault a desire for growth in anyone, even if it’s obviously out of reach at the moment.
Our Santa adventure pinnacled with pony rides outside in bitter temperatures. It was the first time either boy had ridden a horse, unless you count the time I was pregnant with DC and unhorsed by a charging territorial goose–but that’s another story. The boys loved riding, and by the end had made fast friends with their miniature steeds.
All in all it was a successful, albeit disorganized endeavor, but this is an instance where I absolutely choose to embrace the chaos. Moments like these create memories that we will remember and laugh about for years to come, spilled juice and scary Santas included.