Last Friday was K's childminder's Christmas party and Mr unwittingly got roped into playing the part of Santa. He knew he was being lined up for the role so when he was asked to do it he replied that he would love to (liar!) but unfortunately he had no holiday left and wouldn't be able to get the time off work. When told that the party was actually in the evening he couldn't back out of it.
Mr brought home the suit he was given and tried it on after K had gone to bed. I don't know about wanting to kiss Santa Claus (I'm not a lover of beards, no not even on you Brad Pitt) but I did cry with laughter. I was forbidden from taking a photo because "it will be on Facebook in 5 minutes" but here is one of him and K at the party.
We wondered if K would recognise him – she didn't, but she kept staring at him as if something was familiar – and although Mr did a superb job of dishing out presents to around 30 kids, all high on a cocktail of cake and soft drinks, I don't think he'll be volunteering again in a hurry. I've not seen him so desperate for a beer in a while.
On Monday we took the train to Brighton to meet a friend and her daughter. We decided to go to the grotto at Churchill Square and after queuing for 45 minutes with only a couple of animatronic bears for distraction, and a last minute dash to the loo with accompanying tantrum, we were ushered in by an elf. On entering the grotto I was taken aback at how young Santa was. I was expecting a rosy-cheeked old man but what we got was a sullen 20-something. The girls didn't seem to mind and were happy with the book they were given but I refused to pay another £5 on top of the £5 to get in just for a photo of K with the student Santa. Bah humbug! Next year I'm going to get organised and get tickets for one of the big London department stores instead. Or as Mr suggested, if you can charge those kind of prices, and with his Santa experience under his belt, maybe we should set up our own!
