Dragging Kids About Town.

The past few days have been great.

Unless you ask my children. Then, the time has been rotten.

For starters, we rocked Nora's world with the trifecta of terror: Santa, first haircut, and meeting new people.

We thought she'd dig seeing Santa, seeing as how she's been obsessed with all of the classic Christmas movies and telling everyone how KIND she's been. (Saturday morning she excitedly told me that Santa would even give her a treat because she's been so KIND.) But no. After standing in that line and being greeted by a positively dour Mrs. Claus, she lost her nerve. Zuzu was placed in Santa's arms and Nora reluctantly sat on his lap.

Nooope...

"Hi there!"

Waaaaaaail. She bolted. Susannah stayed put and even blinked happily up at him. He offered to take a picture with "the little one." (I'm sure she was a refreshing drink of water after the terrified children of the morning. By the way, Nora and Susannah were the tenth kids inside Santa's workshop that day. Poor guy.)

As we exited, Nora told me brightly- "I met Santa!" And then a moment later. "I was scared."

Frightened by the person behind me.

We remained at the Christkindlmarket because we had yet to get our mulled wine in a boot, obvie. Even when it began a torrential downpour, we stayed the course. For we couldn't find the booth with the miniature blown glass animals. (Never did find it, actually, but that sure as heck didn't stop us from trying for a goodly while.) Susannah was in the Bjorn and Nora in the backpack- 'cause that scene doesn't exactly encourage the stroller set. And nothing says the Advent Season like a fever brought on by one's mother's quest for the cutest glass frog.

Nora ate her lunch in the car so as to prevent her from falling asleep. Did I mention we kept her up past her nap for optimal Santa meetin'/crowd evadin' time? And the second she woke up from her later nap, we whisked her off for her first ever haircut? Good afternoon.

Is this what you wanted, Mom?

We went to Pickle's Playroom in Lincoln Square, because a) it looked cute, and b) I feared my own ability to not give my daughter a mullet. She chose to sit in a pink car and watch an episode of Dora for her big shearing- as you do. (It still felt wrong to even be cutting one lock of her hair- she was a cueball until, like, last Christmas. Why am I mocking the gods?) She was unsure of the spray bottle, the comb, the scissors, and especially the blow dryer. But when she found out that the haircut came with a free half hour in the business' stellar playroom, she was totally on board. So, ten minutes after the haircut, she was fine.

And now she has bangs. Which are completely adorbs.

After the trim, we stopped by a lovely Christmas party at P.J.'s coworker's home. So Nora got to meet new people- which, surprisingly, she was really rather good at that evening. (It helped that they had a good under-7 crowd.)

Naturally, she went to bed an hour and a half later than usual and- shockingly- slept until 10:30 the next morning. It was SO crazy that we actually got nothing done...because we spent way too much time announcing how CRAZY it was that she was still asleep.

Look at us smushing our children.

After breakfast for lunch, we went out to Home Depot and picked up what may have been their last Frasier Fir. (Place was seriously picked over. "Had a busy Saturday," they said. No kidding. There was our tree, some Charlie Browns, and a trail of mutilated garlands leading to the parking lot.) That said, our tree is boss. Made even more so by the fact that Nora carefully helped me decorate it- taking the time to first organize ornaments by shape and color on the floor (I am so proud). The smallish cup of "warm cocoa" she had ingested made her a little more forceful than normal whilst placing the decorations on the actual tree, but the overall effect is still pretty nice. And those suckers are ON THERE.

While we mangled the tree, P.J. magnificently Daddified the front yard with garlands, lights, wreaths, windows boxes, and power strips.

And where was Susannah during all of this? She was doing what she does best- just being. Being in a bouncer seat, being in a sling, being in our arms, smiling all the while. Pleased as punch to watch Nora bodyslam the tree, stoked to be bundled into the freezing cold, happy as a clam to sleep against me during her sister's events. She's just a bucket full of Christmas goodwill.

I'm fine. No, really. Fine.

All of which I squandered this morning during her two month checkup and the battery of four vaccinations. Nothing like watching a sweetly shy smile turn to despairing pain and betrayal.

I have quite a bit of trust-rebuilding to do this week.

Nora thinks I should say it with waffles. She may be onto something.