At church on Sunday. I learned that 9 people had turned down the request to be Santa at the Christmas party. My response?
HH will do it! HH would LOVE to do it!
He's really so great at that sort of thing. He loves kids and they love him. And, honestly, everything is more fun when HH is involved. So, he seemed a natural fit.
Except physically speaking, of course.
And to his credit, he really didn't take any convincing and was quite willing.
So, tonight was the party. I knew the kids would not be fooled, so we told them beforehand so they wouldn't spoil it for any other child. And I thought it was going to be awesome to get a fabulous picture of the kids with Santa, for once.
Ah, ha ha. Joke's on me. This is the best I got.
The first half of the party was a little stressful. I was bringing potato casserole and a salad. The afternoon/evening was too chaotic for Darling A to get a late nap in to help with her being out late, Baby B was having a not-so-good-day, the kids needed their costumes for the Nativity scene, and HH and I were both stressed, having thought the other person would have more time to help us with our own preparation for the party.
So, we showed up in less than the best of moods. Baby B continued downhill and there weren't enough seats.
It was rough. But, gradually, things worked themselves out. Baby B and I enjoyed a quiet dinner on the floor. Sounds bad, but really, I think a little alone time with me was exactly what he needed. And the quiet time was good for me, too.
Other than needing to help the kids and HH with their costumes at the exact same time and missing the entire Nativity production, the rest of the evening was a smashing success. HH did a fabulous job. The kids were all so happy. He was cracking jokes and entertaining everyone in ear shot. He didn't complain once about sweating buckets under the suit (and the jacket he'd layered on to try and add bulk to his less-than-Santa girth). And more than one child walked away saying "That was the real Santa!" Including one who had previously been told that it was, in fact, HH.
I love HH. I love that I can volunteer him for things like this and know that not only will he do it, but that he'll do it happily and well. I love that after an evening of snippy remarks to each other, I can say, "hey, I'm willing to clear the slate and start over, so we can have a good time if you are", and he will. I love that I learned that move from him.
And I love that he's man enough to put on a wig that inspires his toddler to declare, "You look like a grill (girl), Daddy!"