Yesterday I had to give Deaglan a time-out for opening a second gift from under the tree. He had already opened one, something I couldn't bring myself to get worked up about because, after all, he's only almost three.
But I explained, in detail, the process: how we wait until Christmas morning, after Santa has come to open the presents.
This boring explanation could not trump the heady buzz he must have felt opening that first gift and hitting the jackpot with a Thomas the train bath toy. So he went for it again while I was distracted in the kitchen.
And today we went to see Santa at the mall. Because Shaune and I get creeped out by mall santa's, we weren't planning on taking the kids unless they brought it up, but we were already at the mall, and there was no line-up and that new-parent bug took over. We even paid the eleven bucks for the five by seven print we could have photoshopped ourselves for a fraction of that price.
After we left the mall, Deaglan had a million questions:
- When was he going to get his station (a three vehicle -police car, ambulance and firetruck - parking garage he fell in love with a few days ago)
- Was Santa going to that store to get it?
- When would Santa see his goats (I explained for the tenth time that they were reindeers)
- Why couldn't he have his station now
I know that they call this phase he's going through the terrible two's but I have to say, it's a lot of great stuff too.
The joy he gets from substituting every other word with poop, pee and stinky bum/feet/armpit - well it's hard to always remain neutral and discouraging. And the fact that he asks me all the time if I think he's funny, kills me.
Last night before we started reading our last book at bedtime, he looked at me and said Mommy, I'm going to be funny now. And sure enough he was.
This is my entry for Pour your heart out. Check out some of the other posts.