Claus-trophobic

First off, Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a happy holiday season and are ready for 2009!

If any of you really know me you know that I am essentially Claus-trophobic. I’m talking about the guy in the big red suit. You know, Santa. The one who steals baby Jesus’ thunder. Anyway, I remember being in the mall with my mother and basically slinking on the edge of the store entrances to get as far away from Santa as possible, and I was 8. I knew he wasn’t real. I knew by about Meredith’s age actually.

Apparently Claus-trophobia is genetic, because Meredith wanted nothing to do with the guy. Shortly after Thanksgiving we were running some errands in the mall and there was no line for Santa. It was a quality Santa with a real beard and everything. I am very conscious not to try and pass along my fears or dislikes to Meredith- that includes Santa and certain foods that I don’t like etc. I encouraged Meredith to go see Santa. “I’ll even go with you!” She watched Santa carefully from the distance, was intrigued when he was drinking a Starbucks when we passed him later in the day, but later declared that Mrs. Claus will be delivering her gifts because Santa has to work.

Part of our Christmas activities, besides baking gingerbread cookies- special request by Meredith-

and decorating gingerbread houses, (thanks to Karen at my work who builds the houses and provides the icing and candy!)

and looking at the decorations around town,

was going to a Night in Bethlehem at my sister’s church. It was a lot of fun! Essentially it was many different tents with all sorts of crafts and activities for the children and the Holy Family, yes, Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus were there with the animals. Meredith was captivated. “That’s Him!” “That’s baby Jesus!” “I touched His head!” She was so enthralled that she wouldn’t even look for a picture. Sorry Santa, but you can’t compete with the Babe in the Manger.