Day 251: Ho ho ho-rrified

I should probably preface today's entry by explaining that Mads is not all that comfortable in the company of strangers. But unfortunately for her, it seems that all babies are equipped with some kind of magnet that draws people in. We'll be at the grocery store, and we'll pass a woman picking out tomatoes, looking right as rain. Suddenly she turns, spots Maddie, and before you know it she's kneeling on the floor in front of her saying ridiculous things in ridiculous voices. "Ooooh! Who da big silly willy girl? Do you know Mr. Tomato? Mr. Tomato says 'Hi wittle baby!'" Truth be told, it's a bit embarassing, particulary as I know Maddie's reaction will inevitably be to stare blankly at this woman, not blinking, not smiling, but clearly suspicious - as if she knows the woman is a lunatic and is mentally sizing up the emergency exits in case things go bad. Sadly, some people take this as a challenge of sorts. The less responsive she is the more they try to break her. Let's just say that after 5 minutes of unsuccessful baby talk things can get a bit awkward. It probably doesn't help that I stand there fake-laughing like an idiot through the whole exchange in effort to make the person feel better.

So it was with all of this in mind that Fernando and I packed her up for a visit with Santa at the mall. I was prepared for an intervention if needed - toys, rattles, bottles, crackers, biscuits and cheerios were all on hand. And so you can imagine our shock when Fernando plopped her down on Santa's lap and she sat there happy as can be. Then, as if in slow motion, we saw her turn her head back to see the big, bearded stranger behind her. Her face froze, then fell, and then the crying started. And that's the story of how I found myself crouching before a fake raging fire, singing "Baby Beluga" in front of Santa and his elves. She stopped crying long enough for Santa's helper to snap this picture.

On the way home I assured poor Maddie that in a few years that fat, velvet-clad man will come second only to Daddy on her list of favourite guys. And then, a few years after that, they'll both be temporarily supplanted by the boy who aims spitballs into the back of her head at school. After all, what girl can resist the ever-flirtatious spitball launch?