The one with Santa and "the incident"(s)

No good comes from the phrase "the incident." You're basically saying "that horrific thing that happened that should never be spoken of again" but you also know you're gonna have to tell it now because nobody lets the word "incident" go unexplained. 

You know if I titled this 'The one with Santa' you wouldn't be reading this right now. You're here for "the incident." Or as it goes with our family, the incident(s).

My research for this blog (yes, I do research, don't look so surprised) entailed messaging our family members and asking if we have any incidents in our history involving Santa, specifying not counting the incident of 2020.

See. Now you wanna know what happened in 2020, right? Sorry. As the saying goes, what happened in 2020 stays in 2020. Therefore the incident with C*v*d Claus gonna stay in the vault. As will the incident involving Santa's unfortunate dismount from the mechanical bull I persuaded him to climb onto for a picture at my birthday party this year. *Zips lips, throws key* 

One of these days we're gonna run outta Santas willing to come to our house.

Anyhoo. Zac was the only one who responded to my in-depth research and answered, "The year I pooped my pants at dad's work party during pictures with Santa."

Unlike the pants pooping incident in 6th grade when he blamed the smell on Victoria until I picked him up from school, I'd totally forgotten about the one with Santa. The incident in 6th Grade was like, 2005. The one with Santa was 2016. He was 22. I  guess I blocked that one out. I remember now though, and it was very much an incident.   

In more recent years an incident happened that didn't directly involve us. Last year we'd taken our 4 grandchildren on a train ride to "the North Pole." Santa visited our train car and everyone was served cookies and the kids all received balloon animals. Everyone was having a great time, but before we could reach "the North Pole", the train stopped suddenly and we were surrounded by firetrucks, police cars, and ambulances. We had no idea what was going on, but once we started moving again an announcement came over the loud speaker: "We are now heading back to the station. PLEASE do NOT put your balloon animals in your MOUTH. Thank you."

So basically one latex intolerant balloon licker ruined the North Pole for everyone. Nice.

It obviously wasn't enough to ruin our experience because we went back again this year.

Same setup: Train ride, the "North Pole", Santa, cookies, and balloon animals because the operators of the Santa railroad apparently maintained their faith in the common sense of humanity. Adorable. They did make one change however, and brought in Lucky the libations elf to serve adult beverages. (Suspected connection to the chaos of last year's incident but unconfirmed). So if you needed a little somethin' somethin' to take the edge off, you just yelled "LUCKY!" and voila. Until Scarlet, age 6, called for Lucky and we had to wave Lucky a never mind.

Shout out to Lucky the libations elf. We kept her busy.

Ron had opted for the seat across from 2 strangers. He loves strangers. As I've explained before, on his solar system of relationship priorities, strangers are his Mercury, baby. 

I was sitting directly behind him with 2 of our granddaughters when the strangers found out we'd done this train ride before and said, "Must be pretty good then, huh?" to which Ron replied, "Welllll, last year there was..."

I interrupted from my seat behind him, "Ron, no." But of course he ignored me,

 "....the incident."

And as if that weren't enough he continued,

"Somebody almost died."

For Ron, the only thing better than strangers is making dramatic announcements so when his 2 worlds can collide, it's a Merry Christmas. 

But hey. If it prevented them from licking their balloons that day, I'll allow it. 

On the upside, we made it to the North Pole this year but the downside is that "the North Pole" turned out to be a stop at nothing where the train simply reversed and headed back to the station, so my apologies for resenting an allergenic child for an entire year. 

It was when they took our family picture that we noticed Hays, age 5, lookin' a little...weekend at Bernies, ya might say. But she held it together the remainder of the ride.

Back at the station, everyone was crammed in the isle waiting for permission to get off the train. Scarlet and I stood behind strangers and the rest of our family was behind us. Nick leaned up and whispered to me, "Hay Hay says she's gonna throw up." 

Okay, confession time. Did I switch me and Scarlet places with Nick and Hays, putting the backs of unsuspecting strangers in the line of vomit? Yes.

But have I seen Hays vomit over the top of Scarlet and witness the chaos that ensued? Also yes. Cue Kearstin's wedding and the vomit covered flower girls.  

My sincerest apologies to the guy in front of Hays who took the hit and everyone there who witnessed the stampede-like departure of our train car with Lucky the libations elf nowhere to be found. 

I can hear next year's repeat riders now:

"Wellll, last year there was...the incident..."