Santaphobia Rears Its Ugly Head

We want to think our kids will be different. You know, perfect little angels. Inquisitive, appreciative, calm when other kids go nuts. We are, of course, kidding ourselves.

Take my kids, for example. (No, really. Please. Take them! At least for the afternoon, so I can decompress.) Just don't take them to Disney World. Or to visit Santa Claus.

OK, I know. A 4-year-old and an 18-month-old are going to act like ... well, a 4-year-old and an 18-month-old. Knowing that doesn't make it any less exasperating.

The 4-year-old was a 3-year-old on Monday. Tuesday, his birthday, we took him to the Magic Kingdom. You know, the Happiest Place on Earth?

Ugh.

He rode the Indy cars and the merry-go-round. No Peter Pan. No Small World. No Goofy's airplane roller coaster. No Pirates. No Haunted Mansion. No Dumbo ride. No teacups.

He watched Country Bears Jamboree (after I threw him across my shoulders and carried him in, kicking and screaming), the Tiki birds and a couple of parades. That was it. Did I mention that lunch at the Happiest Place on Earth was the Saddest Meal on Earth? He did not -- DID NOT -- want the chicken nuggets and fries. He ate a couple of sliced up grapes and an oatmeal cookie.

He settled down, though, and once we decided not to abort the mission and just take in the day on his terms, it was a very nice day. He loved the cupcake, so we had that going for us.

Then, today, Santa Claus came to town. The daycare center brought him in for photos. Every other kid in the place jumped on Santa's lap and generally had a jolly good time with the old elf. Not mine.

The 4-year-old refused -- REFUSED -- to sit on Santa's lap for a picture. The 18-month-old took one look at that red costume, that shaggy beard and those awful, nightmarish white gloves and began to bawl.

Sigh.

Other parents and the daycare director tried to comfort me by saying a lot of kids act like that around Santa. It's a form of separation anxiety. Or maybe they just don't like the look of that dude in the red suit. Evidently, there's something shady about that beard, those glasses and that just-too-happy-to-be-for-real countenance.

I didn't see any other kids acting like that, though. Ah, well.

At least now when they're in therapy after college they'll be able to pinpoint the traumatic moment that made their childhoods such a misery.

Happy birthday. Merry Christmas.

Sigh.