Santa said, "We'll see...", she replied.

It was a day for pictures. First for basketball and then for Santa.

Basketball took some coaxing, almost as much from having to wake up at 6am for pictures at 7:30am as from Short Person's resistance at playing. Even though she was gung-ho from the get-go to play, the realization that she can't simply pick up a basketball and play like any number of people three times her age frustrates her.

Someday I'll find a way to explain that it takes practice to learn something, it just wasn't going to be today. Today it took the promise of McDonald's cinnamon rolls to even get her to agree to a picture.

Finally, after an hour of warming up, and the persistant persuasion of a mommy that's willing to look like a dork in front of 50 other parents running up and down the basketball court, she started playing. She even scored two baskets (yea!).

Once we finished with basketball, we were once again running. First, to McD's to uphold my ealier promise, then to home, then to the Fire Department for pictures with Santa.

Short Person knew exactly what she wanted to wear. It was a homemade dress in two parts, the dress and the pinnafore. She rushed to eat, actually finishing her roll in the car, and hurried through the motions of brushing her teeth, changing into her dress, putting on jewelry and makeup, and then reluctantly brushing her hair while her mom sucked down coffee like it was going out of style. Then, at 10am, we left for Santa pictures.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I thought about the previous years of excitement that led right up to the front doors, through the line while we looked at the Christmas trees and commented on all the little babies also getting pictures, and right up to the moment that they called her to bounce up on the engine for the picture. At that moment, excitement turned to tears and fear and the picture usually reflected it.

Not this time. This time, she hopped up there, told Santa what she wanted, smiled for the camera- theirs and mine- and hopped down to wait for the photograph. I was amazed, as were the volunteers who remember previous years if for no other reason than she's my daughter.

We grabbed our photograph and went to tour the fire trucks and I asked her what she told Santa she wanted.

"I told him I wanted a baby pink pony", she stated with an oddly hesitant voice.

My eyebrows raised slighly. A baby pink pony? Did she mean a real one? Dear Lord, what was I going to do with that information? I had no idea what in blazes she was thinking of when she asked for that. My little pony, maybe?

I collected myself and cheerfully said, "Well, that's great that you got to ask him for exactly what you wanted! What did Santa say?" I wondered.

She scrunched up her mouth and looked a little perplexed, "Santa said, 'We'll see...'", she replied.

We'll see? I thought. Holy cow! Warring emotions played in my head. On one hand I understood because it had only been seconds before that I was wondering what in the heck she meant, but... this is Santa. Giver of the impossible! Keeper of the magic and expectancy that we've come to know as Christmas. We'll see?!

I tried to think of a response to explain away his answer. "Well honey, maybe he thought you wanted a real one and wanted to check with his elves, or with us, before he got you a real live pony."

"But mo-om..." she sighed, "I don't want a real one!"

"Well, honey, don't worry. He's Santa! He has lists everywhere and I'm sure he'll look into it when he's not so busy. It will be okay. You'll see."

We wandered back into the lobby to say goodbye to a friend of ours and while Short Person was busy saying farewell to the little girl I talked to her mom about the pony. I found out that her daughter had a giant stuffed pony and we agreed that maybe Shortie was hoping for the same thing. I asked for a location of purchase if she was able to get the information and then Short Person and I left for home.

******

LJS had been helping his parents with their house earlier in the day, but when he came home he needed to work on a desk that I had purchased as another Santa gift for Short Person. I had found the desk in a Craigslist posting for $40, but it needed some work. One of the drawers was missing a guide and was sitting crooked, the handles were tarnished and scratched, and the wood itself was a dark mess of scratches and wear.

I had told Short Person that Santa had called us to let us know he'd be bringing something big as a segeway into getting rid of her play kitchen and market. Two things she had outgrown, but was unwilling to part with, that we needed to remove to fit a desk in. So, since it was to be a gift from Santa, she couldn't see it. A challenge as the work was going to be done in the garage to strip, restain, and varnish it.

Since LJS was going to need every weekend in order to get the refinish work completed, it meant that I'd need to have Shortie out of the house during the major work, like sanding, which was to happen that night. So, we went shopping for Christmas gifts at Target.

We spent hours at the store gathering gifts for people, drinking hot cocoa from Starbucks, and looking at various things. I purposely saved the toy aisles for last wanting to save myself the headache of having to explain and re-explain that we weren't there to buy things for ourselves.

Up and down the aisles we went commenting on various items and who they'd be good presents for, until finally we got to the My Little Pony section. There, on the shelf, was a little baby pink pony.

I watched as she picked the box up, looking whistfully at it. "This is what I asked Santa for...." She let her voice drift off, slowly put the box back on the shelf and went to look at other things on the aisle.

It was on sale for $8 off.

And the sale ended that night.

There was NO way I could NOT get it. I simply refused to spend $8 more for something.

I picked up the box, pretending to look at it, all the while watching her from the corner of my eye. She knelt down to look at something on the floor and I scrambled. Things were being knocked all over the cart as I moved things around to bury this large box at the bottom, holding back laughter at how funny I'm sure I looked.

Finally hidden, I urged Short Person on and we continued our search for Christmas gifts.

I never considered that I'd have to distract her over and over again because she'd want to review the items we'd placed in the cart! But somehow, I made it to the checkstand without her seeing it.

At the checkout, she started helping put things on the belt-- as I was attempting to find some way to pull it out and give it to the cashier for quick ring up and bagging.

"Honey, look at all that stuff down there on the rack. There's a slinky... and look... PEZ!" (My daughter is a freak for PEZ, if you didn't know that.)

"But Mom, I want to help." She toned.

Near panic and desperation, I looked at her and blurted out, "Look at the toys or you're not getting anything for Christmas!"

Short Person whirled around and knelt down to consider the things hanging on the bottom rack. Guiltily, I looked at the older couple standing behind us, who had a look of shock on their faces at this scene, and then rushed to pull the pony from the cart while Meg was still distracted. I pulled it out from underneath about twenty things, watching as some of them fell to the floor, and gave it to the clerk. I asked her to double-bag that item and then told Short Person she was now able to help.

Forty minutes later, we were home, heavy one baby pink pony and one very chagrined mother.