Do Not Want!

Oh, the joys of Christmas.

My mom has taken Bacon to see Santa and get her picture taken since birth - in other words, the last two years. Year one she sat on Santa's lap without a care in the world, smiled big for the photo, and had a grand time. Last year she was warier, but ultimately, we got the picture.

This year, however, she was having none of it.

We thought she'd be fine; we kept talking up Santa and she was all excited this morning to go see him. We made a few stops before heading to the mall, and every time I stopped the car, she said, "Where's Santa?" She waited patiently in line like a champ, and ran over to the sleigh in which Santa sat - only to stop dead and start crying. Poor kid.

We wandered around Cherry Creek's ritzy mall (with exactly one plus-sized shop, and that not suitable for anyone under age 60) and had some lunch, but Bacon stuck to her guns: No Santa.

Ah, well. Maybe next year.