Confessions of a Desperate Mom

It is tradition for us to visit Santa at our ward’s Christmas party but this year, the organizers declared it a Santa-free soiree.

I’m betting they will be getting coal in their stocking.

So I was faced with quite possibly the most dreadful possibility of all:

Braving the mall in December to see Santa.

And I would have done it two for those darling kids of mine but let it be known, I really really really really didn’t want to to make my semi-annual pilgrimage to the mall during its busiest season.

So imagine my delight when I arrived at the church last Saturday to help decorate for our ward’s Christmas party, only to discover I went to the wrong building.

OK, that wasn’t the delightful part. The delightful part was another congregation was there celebrating and the kids were bouncing off the walls waiting for Santa.

Frustrated over my navigational error, I slumped out to the car where I found Jamie and the kids patiently waiting. But then, what to my wondering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh beat-up clunker pull up with Mr. and Mrs. Claus.

“I’m well aware of that, Amber.”
“We HAVE to let the kids visit with Santa. THIS IS OUR CHANCE.”

We were pressed for time and it would have been impolite to invite ourselves to another ward’s party, let alone cut in the front of the line. And so I did what any mall-phobic, stressed-out mama would do as her husband rolled his eyes in exasperation:

I hijacked Santa outside the building.

No worries. I’ll return him by Christmas Eve.

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