The Resident's Spouse Association held it's annual Christmas party. It was a potluck in the penthouse of one of the towers at the hospital and the Evite promised a visit from Santa. I figured it might be a good opportunity to see if the kids would want to actually sit on Santa's lap this year without the hassle of the mall. The kids were a little antsy because we didn't eat until 6 pm and then afterwards they were a little bored because there was no room to run around. We were about to give up on Santa; then he arrived. Immediately the kids wanted to be held. We got in line to see Santa and both Ian and Payton balked at the idea of talking to Santa, much less sitting on his lap. So we left.
Later that night, I'm tucking Payton in bed and she decides she needs to have a conversation with me about Santa. This is how it went:
'Mom, Santa wasn't fat. Why wasn't Santa fat?'
'I don't know, Payton. He's lost some weight, but I bet he'll be fat for Christmas.'
'Some people are fat, but I'm not fat.'
'That's true, Payton. You are not fat. You won't have to worry about it as long as you eat your meat, vegetables, and fruit. And exercise.'
'I eat meat!'
'Yes, you do. Do you eat fruit?'
'Yes, I eat fruit.'
'Do you eat vegetables?'
'No..(pause)....but maybe when I'm four.'
'OK!'
I'm hoping to hold her to her promise of eating vegetables when she's four. She's already repeated her promise on two other occasions. We'll see, but I'm not holding my breath.
