Girl loves Santa and Christmas. I know that most people feel that way, but Girl has gone nuts. I confess that it's my fault. When we were in Colorado Springs this year we went to a Kiddie amusement park at the base of Pike's Peak. See, Mr. Hobbitfeet had dropped Girl on her face the night before and we subjected her to the Ranger talks on the various poo found on the peak as we steadily went up and up on the "most boring" mountain in the world.
So even though it was our anniversary and we wanted a fancy dinner, we spent our dinner money on the amusment park called the North Pole.
She loved it and got to see Santa in early June. Strike one.
We let her start watching Christmas movies in October. Strike two.
And finally I sent her a letter from Santa. Strike three.
Now she hates us because she wants to go live with Santa and can not understand why we can't "just let [her] go live where [she] wants to live! Oy! She's only 5!
So now, even though I love Christmas, I really hate Santa right now and can not remember why I wanted my daughter to believe in him. It seems very counterproductive that I spend my entire year being a mom and making her eat her veggies and go to bed on time, and the credit for the one really awesome thing I do all year goes to some stupid fat man.
I don't even want to share the credit with Mr. H. I'm th one that wrote that letter that she is carrying in her back pocket.
I'm the one that painstakingly picked out the world's best scooter that is currently hiding in my garage waiting for Christmas morning and my daughter is like, "Bitch I hate living with you and all your stupid vegetables and bedtimes! I want to live at the North Pole!" (Obviously she didn't say that, it was just implied).
I never had this problem with Boy. He believed but he wasn't insane.
6 hours ago