’Tis the season to visit Santa and whisper in his ear all your Christmas wishes.
Not all of my kids went for that practice though. Molly--Molly the Clown Heckler, if you recall—wasn’t about to sit on Santa’s lap, let alone tell her secrets to him. The first time we visited Santa the kids were two years old. Most of them cried all the way through it. So we skipped that tradition for the next couple of years. Then when the kids were four, they went with Grandma to her Shepard's office party at the Antlers Hotel. Molly chose not to even go near Santa's lap at the party. But she did agree to sit for the caricaturist who drew the four kids together. He did a great job of capturing something of each of their personalities in his caricatures.
By the time they were five, Molly was a bit more comfortable with the idea of seeing Santa, as long as a brother provided a safe barrier between Santa and her. And by then, she was pretty certain he wasn't anything more than a guy dressed up in a red suit. We even exchanged a few notes over the cookie plate we left for him each Christmas Eve to help persuade her. But there was little hope of convincing her that Santa was any more real than the toothfairy.
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Life with Quadruplets
As a mother of quadruplets, I've had plenty of crazy experiences raising "supertwins." I blog a lot of memories about my kids. Sometimes just my thoughts on things. I get those sometimes—when my brain works. Which is about one third of the time.