It is not even Halloween yet and I have already invoked the wrath of Santa on my 3-year-old. During dinner while she was grabbing her brother, eating her PBJ, teetering in her booster seat and reciting the latest episode of Dora all at once, Santa “called.” I picked up the phone, held some horrified one-sided conversation with him about no presents, lots of coal and lists involving naughty and nice children.
Talk about snapping to attention. She was an angel for bedtime. Mostly. Except for the new thing where instead of walking from point A to B. She runs. Or hops. Or does the electric slide.
As Dora would say, “Feliz Navidad!” It’s a looooong way ’til Christmas.