Poor Briar. We told her after her second Christmas, the first having been celebrated on the West Coast, that Santa was back at the North Pole resting. Since then we have seen no less than, oh, I don’t know 320 plastic, stone and inflated Santas displayed prominently throughout town.
Briar: Oooh, there’s Santa.
Briar: Oh, oh, there he is again.
Briar: Mama, he’s not sleeping, but he’s busy. He’s here too!
Avery is rather unimpressed by the whole thing. The other day we were in the car driving to Melissa’s house and the following exchange took place:
Briar: Ooh, lookey-dat! Mama, do you think that was Rudolph what I just saw in that yard?
Me: I don’t know. Maybe.
Briar: Avery, do you think so? Do you think that was Rudolph what I say back there?
This was followed by a brief silence and then ~
Sigh. A dreamer and realist.