You probably think this is going to be a mouse post, a follow up to my grim tale a few weeks ago, but it isn't. (Incidentally, the mouse survived. In our house. For several days, until Noah found it, caught it, and released it. Isn't that charming?) Anyway, this is actually about one of the biggest parenting gaffes I've ever made.
I guess I underestimated how much Ethan understood regarding the whole Santa Thing this year. He did keep mentioning the old guy, and he waved at him at the mall, but I thought his comprehension was only vague. Wrong.
On Christmas Eve we went to Noah's parents' house to help them decorate their tree and celebrate Noah's birthday (more on The Incident later), then we met my parents for a movie (Tangled) and dinner. On the way home, around 7:30, Ethan fell asleep in the car.
I've mentioned before that Ethan is a champion sleeper, so I stupidly thought we could slip him into his new Christmas Eve pajamas without really waking him up. Three hours later, he was still sitting on the couch between me and Noah, commenting on the general splendor of the living room after hours.
"Hmm..." he said, a hint of pleasant surprise in his voice. "This is really nice!" Upon further inspection of the Christmas tree and mantle garland, he deemed the room both "Byooful!" and "Lovely!"
When I was a kid, I was so terrified of accidentally running into Santa, I didn't let so much as a toe slip from under the bedclothes without a parental escort. Ethan, on the other hand, has no such reverence or fear. Much to my chagrin. Finally, of course, he did go to sleep.
He awoke on Christmas morning to...well, that's another story for another day. I can only handle so much humiliation at a time.