Grandma took James to see Santa today. I wasn't there to bear witness, but did just receive my first report from the field. For the second year in succession, James was scared of Santa.
He enjoyed himself at the Christmas party, eating snacks, drinking chocolate milk and getting a present, but the sight of St. Nick freaked him out. James, it seems, prefers his Santa in pictures, on the television or several feet away.
I see this as a good thing. All we do is tell him to be weary of such situations. When an old dude invites James to sit on his lap, I want James to scream "No!" Good boy.
