This past holiday season, we contemplated the age-old question of Santa Claus, whether he is truly jolly ol' Saint Nick or the epitome of scary fright nestled snugly in a red felt suit with white furry plush edging.
To help you come to your own decision, we present you with Exhibit A, a photo of happy, smiling Helios, eyes sparkling during a recent visit with the gloved wonder (no, not Michael Jackson, which would decide the scary v. splendid question easily enough). Santa would make light conversation with Helios, inquiring as to his behavior, whether he was good to his little brother, and other such appropriately paternal inquiries. In every visit with Santa or one of his helpers, Helios asked for the same thing: "a big present, a really, really
big present. I want a
big wrapped box for me to unwrap." Several people tried to pry into Helios' Christmas request, inquiring what should be inside that Christmas-wrapped box. Every time, Helios said, "nothing. I want a really
big box to unwrap and Santa needs to bring it. He
needs to, Mommy!" Every night, along with a prayer for his family and friends, sandwiched between "Good night, God" and "Good night, Jesus" was "Good night, Santa Claus. Don't fall out of your sleigh!" Clearly, Santa Claus is held in very high esteem. Love and concern for Santa emanated profusely from every pore on Helios' 3-year-old body.
Now, please consider if you will, Exhibit B. This is Hesperos, screaming in bloody terror during a preschool visit by Santa. This was not a single occasion. Every time Hesperos was approached by the hairy elderly guy who liked to have children sit on his lap (hmm...), his reaction was the same. Whether Santa came bearing candy canes, toys, coloring books, or just a jolly laugh, Hesperos recoiled in fear from the plentiful beard, suddenly wanting to cuddle with anyone in the continental United States who could take him far, far away. Since Hesperos still wears diapers, it's unlikely, but in the picture at right, the shading on his pants looks like Hesperos lost his bladder control during this visit to Santa.
Santa: scary or splendid? Include this among the important decisions you must make in 2008.
Among the treasure trove of half-written-and-as-yet-unpublished posts was this one from October regarding pumpkin picking with the boys.
One of the benefits of living in this area in the autumn is the abundance of farms where pumpkin picking opportunities are plentiful and the kettle corn is crunchy. Although we've never yet carved a pumpkin with the children, we've had a great time doing everything else up to that final, dirty deed.
While we had gone pumpkin picking last year, it didn't really click with Helios what the whole activity was about, and Hesperos was bundled up like a little human burrito. This year, though, Helios was all about Halloween, picking pumpkins, and the wagon rides. (Side story: While traipsing through the fields, Helios astounded us as he shared his memories of last Halloween, trick-or-treating with Hesperos dressed up like a pumpkin, in their double stroller. Talk about a good memory! It was a reminder to us parents to not try and pull a fast one over him...Helios is apparently old enough to now keep us accountable!)
Even better than the hay rides were the opportunities to imagine what life would be like as a farm animal. Helios got confused a few times which way he was supposed to look through the cardboard cutouts, as well as a little bewildered about why his little brother's head was poking out of a cow's body. But, all types of animal-corpus angst was forgotten once the boys were safely seated in their trusty, not-so-rusty Red Flyer two-seater wagon that carried them in seated comfort across the pumpkin patch, allowing them to gaze across the fields with lordly authority as they munched on kettle corn.
After picking the perfect pumpkins (and after Helios tried sitting on one, before jumping up and exclaiming "the pumpkin was poking me!" while Mommy tried to stifle laughter and vaguely adult commentary), we loaded pumpkins and children into the handy-dandy nearby wheelbarrow and carted them home. Uncarved, the pumpkins enjoyed a place of decorative prominence on our front doorstep before entering our compost bin to become mulch for our spring gardening attempts.
