It was my toddler’s meltdown of all meltdowns. (I’m the worst cliche, I know.) But I was mostly confused about it: LadyP woke up in a good mood, was excited for our day’s activity (which I had built up so big the night before that she actually wanted to go to bed to wake up for it) and eagerly let me dress her and her little sister in record time. Last year’s Santa’s visit was “interesting” (screaming, tears, dread) and yielded a picture that looked… well… awkward if not a bit pervy.
But this year, oh, this year’d be different. LadyP was now TWO (very mature) and my girls and I were a threesome of VIPs attending the beautiful Hollywood Housewife’s holiday soiree at the Americana at Brand in Glendale, CA. (I MUST say: The Santa house there is to DIE for! I’ve never seen such a posh, enchanted cottage for St. Nick to sit on his bum and chat with kiddos. If I ever work as an elf, I’m working there. You must visit.)
So naturally, in TheFabMom style, I figured we’d take advantage of the rainy weather and don ourselves in ‘cozy winter wear with flair’ for our impending photos with the Claus: ANIMAL PRINT. My girls would be matching little cheetahs sitting on top of Santa’s lap. LilMiss sported a cheetah skirt with a furry vest and boots, and LadyP would… oh crap… her go-to cheetah outfit was still in the hamper from Thanksgiving. (That’s what I get for not washing the darks 2 days ago.) But lucky for me, GrandmaFab just bought my girls some new cold-weather outfits: our new black-and-cheetah jumpsuit it’d be… complete with her cheetah coat. I ripped the velvet outfit from the closet, tore off the tags and shoved her limbs in all the right places in a mad dash to get to the Americana on time. Purrrrrrfect.
And it was… except that I kept having to pull LadyP’s velvet pantlegs down into her gold boots every 5 minutes because they kept riding up to her knees when she was standing still. That was annoying. Why were these pants so tight? And short? (This was a brand new outfit.) And the pullover (under her jacket) didn’t seem to zip up right either, but whatever… who am I to judge the craftmanship of toddler clothing? LadyP periodically kept telling me throughout the morning that she wanted to “change” her dress. (Be quiet, kid, we’ve got to get our Santa picture!)
Cut to this year’s Santa experience: Louder screaming. More tears. Larger-than-life dread. It was as though she was hell-bent on topping her reaction from last year. All 8-months of LilMiss was visibly mortified. What’s LadyP’s deal? She’s smarter than this, I thought.
Until I got home, changed her clothes and found out who the REAL dummy is. WATCH:
Yes, I apologized to her immediately for my mommy-in-a-hurry mishap… and returned the aforementioned outfit to her sister’s side of the closet.
WHAT CAUSES YOUR SANTA-MELTDOWNS?