After our 2-3 feet of snow this week, we piled into Big Bad Dad's Tundra - Nana too - and headed to FlatIrons Mall to get the annual picture taken with Santa. The traffic was horrendeous in and out of the mall, but we had to get the kids' picture taken. After all this is the same Santa we've been seeing since we moved back to Colorado six years ago.
The line wasn't so bad. In fact, it took Big Bad Dad longer to get coffee than for the kids to get their picture taken. BBD wasn't too happy about missing the picture. It was the first year Boo Girl didn't freak out about Santa. Instead of breaking into tears, she asked him for a rocket fishing rod, something her brother has been begging us to get since he saw the commerical on Nickelodeon.
Rocket rishing rod? Uh, no way. The boy needs to learn how to cast like a real fisherman. Heck, even his mother knows how to cast. Or I used to when, as a kid, I fished on a regular basis on the Jersey Shore and in the Florida Keys. I'm a bit rusty now but like riding a bicycle, it comes back with a little practice.
Merry Christmas everyone.
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