Olivia saw Santa for the first time yesterday. She didn't seem too phased, which was a relief. When I was little I was terrified of Santa. My mom says it was probably because the first time I ever saw him was a bad experience. I was two years old and we were at a Christmas party where a very active and boisterous Santa came in and proceeded to dance around the room, shaking jingle bells. He must not have seen the small girl standing near him, because one of his great, gloved hands flailed a little too freely and caught me upside the head, knocking me to the ground.
When I was 3 or 4 I remember, in vivid detail, a ward Christmas party. I was playing with some other little kids in our church's gym where the party was being held, and ran out into the hallway. It was then that I heard a frightening sound coming from the dark end of the hall....bells. I didn't have to turn around to know that he was coming my way. I ran back into the gym and, unable to locate my parents right away, I lifted the nearest tablecloth and scooted under the long food table. I tried not to breathe as I saw Santa's big, black boots stride into the room and come near the table. I heard my mom calling my name several minutes later and for me to come sit on Santa's lap and she must have panicked when she couldn't find me, but all I know is that I did not come out from under that table until long after those boots had left the room.
Anyways....Olivia did great. And the mall Santa was very nice. I do wish that the photographer had made it worth our $20 while and taken the picture when she was smiled, but oh well.