I met Santa this week.  Welll, that’s what I told my kids. It’s sort-of a way of describing Christmas shopping.  Got it from my parents. I’m not a Santa Clause hater, by the way, but building him up to my children wasn’t something I did when they were younger.  In fact, I recall a funny story when my oldest was just a pre-schooler.  We were in a store around Christmas-time and a nice lady asked her what Santa was going to bring her or something like that.  Ashley straightened her little shoulders and replied in a very matter-of-fact, yet respectful firstborn voice that there wasn’t a Santa Clause.  I remember trying to steer the conversation elsewhere very quickly lest this sweet Southern lady think I was a horrible mother for declaring such a blunt truth to my little girl. I guess it’s all been downhill from there since my kids haven’t really put much stock in him, though they are very eager for presents, no matter the giver. Oh well, maybe I didn’t give the old gent very good publicity, but I saw him this week anyway (in a manner of speaking, of course).

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