On Saturday my daughter had her first real experience with Santa. As we shopped our favorite vegetable market, we heard him before we saw him. A booming Jersey accent filled the open-air store ... and then I saw him.
Toting my toddler as mom searched for the best tomatoes, I tiptoed toward the fat man, gradually bringing my daughter's vision closer to the mythical creature.
Initially shy, she clung to me even as Mr. Claus' friendly paws reached for the child to bring her closer. Sensing her fear the rotund dude whipped out a small stuffed goose and offered it to the child and thus the ice was thus broken. Even though the strange man had a funny white beard, at least he had some cool toys.
One of her first observations was, of course (being a girl), the boots.
After the brief visit the family finished the shop and it was time to go.
Now, it seemed in a matter of minutes she comprehended and even embraced the Santa concept. As we strapped her into her car-seat she starts calling out to the fat man: "Santa I'm over here," "Santa I'm in here."
So at the ripe young age of 31 months, she now knows Santa and it gives me pause: What other fairy tales are we going to subject her to? Santa is pretty much inevitable in Christian Civilization, but how much of the Barbie/Princess Crap does she really need to be subjected to? And what will be her equivalent of Miley Cyrus when she gets older?


