Well, the brats had their annual Christmas party yesterday, and, of course, I had to miss most of it due to a prior engagement.
I was a little sad that I was going to miss all the fun, and had to explain to the boys that when you tell someone that you are going to do something, you have to do it. I talked to the Pizzmeister and said, "I told the lady of the coffee shop I would play for her and her customers months ago. I can't just not show up or cancel with no notice. I'd never be asked to come back."
Anyway, as I was explaining all this stuff about what it means to be responsible and needing to follow through and do what you say you are going to do, the Pizzmeister looked at me and said that he understood and that he was sad I wasn't going to make most of the party, but he'd forgive me...this time.
Finally, it was time to leave for the party and Mama Bear took them out of the house!
Time for the transformation to begin!
I had no prior commitment. In fact, I had been planning this for months. It's the only reason I grow my beard out.
I want my boys and our friends and their children to have the best Santa to come to visit them as possible. Who better than somebody who knows and loves them all?
And, that somebody, of course, is me.
So, once a year, I go through a whole ordeal in an attempt to provide a little extra magic to the season for all the little ones we love around here.
I use some non-toxic white paint to color my hair a light gray, dry it, and use hair spray so it doesn't flake off and leave signs of it not being real white hair.
Yes, I realize that Santa wears a hat, but these are kids I'm dealing with here. You need to prepare for the inevitable, hat grab. The hair needs to match the beard.
Anyway, when I am satisfied with that, I repeat the process for my eye brows, and then trim my beard to make it look right. Then, I paint and spray that too 2 or three times. Then as that is all drying, I have to find my old glasses and change into them, inspect my suit, and then suit up and put my game face on.
I go from being Just a Dizzy Dad to a Rockin' Santa!
Now, all I have to do is get to the party be happy and jolly and get back here and take off all the paint, weed wack my beard, cut my hair, find my correct glasses, clean up all the evidence, and head back to the party as myself apologizing for being so freaking late.
Yeah, it's a major pain in the ass!
But, seeing all the tiny faces light up or scream in terror makes it all worthwhile, and I am seriously going to miss doing it as I think this is the last year I can pull it off. The rugrats are just getting too old and wise, which makes me sad.
It's just one more sign that they are growing up, and I am not ready for them too, any of them.
I'm not too proud to admit that this thought of them getting older fills me with paranoia and sadness and pride and makes me almost cry.
I guess, I am just going to have to make the most of what little time I have left with them while things like magic still exist.
P.s. Here's a few photos I stole from one of our awesome friends of the visit. I hope he doesn't mind.
|As long as Santa has stuff he's welcome|
|baby's first x-mas|
|Uh oh! Not to thrilled with the big man in red|
|Yeah, Santa is tooting!|
|Of course, Santa can't stay to help with clean up|