Our neighborhood moms' group hosts an annual breakfast with Santa. So, Saturday morning we gussied up Miss Olive and headed to the local elementary school cafeteria for some kolaches, donuts and Santa.
Olive was very intrigued by Santa. She kept trying to climb on stage with him (when it wasn't yet our turn). Then she walked around and around the cafeteria - and for awhile chased a little boy who was chasing another little boy. Kyle kept two steps behind Olive, and I waited in line for Santa.
It was a great time. Olive clearly had a ball. My cousin Jamie recently pointed out that mothers learn to have conversations in 1.5 sentence bursts. This was completely my experience at the Santa breakfast.
It is one of the few downfalls of parenthood: my nascent small talk skills have been further stunted by the needs and interruptions of my sweet Olive. I wouldn't change it for the world, but it has been an unexpected consequence of this thing called parenthood. (I say parenthood rather than motherhood, because Kyle totally agrees. Conversation with a child in the proximity = hard.)
By the time it was our turn to sit with Santa. Olive was pretty over it. (Note her expression in the photo below.) We all trooped up there to get her in the spirit, but we only came away with photos of us all. Olive was not keen to go one-on-one with Mr. Claus.
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