Forgive me, Santa, for I have sinned

This year my daughter will not hear the rich baritone of Santa's Ho Ho Ho. She won't feel the tickle of his synthetic beard upon her chin, or be bounced on his knee with the assurances that she is a good girl.  You see, I've committed a cardinal Christmas sin and I have not taken my daughter to meet Santa Claus.

It's Frankie's first Christmas and I must admit that I failed to see the point of introducing her to Santa. At the ripe old age of 3 months, what exactly was in it for her? I had foresaw hours of waiting in line with Frankie, who would be huffing with impatience and unpleasantly surprised when the time came for her to sit on a complete stranger's lap. Frankie would then pass through the irritability phase, landing firmly into the realm of pissed-off-ness, and for the next twelve months I would be forced to look at the photo on the fridge of my daughter screaming bloody murder into Santa's ear.

As you can clearly tell, I was less than happy about participating in this Western rite of passage. But as piece by piece of the advent calendar chocolate started to disappear and the Big Day loomed, I began to question my vehement rejection of this festive custom. Literally every other mother that I know had taken their newborn to visit Santa Claus - it would seem that I was the solitary Scrooge who refused to let my daughter wade in the merry pool of Christmas.

On Christmas Eve I decided I would hope for the best, brave the crowds, and make the voyage to Chatswood shops to introduce Frankie to that jolly red lump of a man named Santa. 

But, despite my last-minute best intentions, fate did not play ball. Three buses passed me, all of which could not cater for prams on board. Now I won't spend a long time whinging about how pathetically archaic the Sydney Transport System is. Instead, I shall just make the point that we never made it to Chatswood. We returned home - dejected and photoless.

When Christmas arrived, I attempted to wash away my guilt with a glass of Champagne and a toast to my daughter's first forced-rejection of community spirit. Let's hope Santa's the forgiving type and gives her a nice present next year, hey?!