I broke santa. I admit it. It's true, but it was never my intent. It just happened, and Ella won't let me forget that I indeed did break santa.
It happened last night. It was dark. It was cold and I was carrying too much. It was a recipe for disaster. If I had realized this, disaster could have been averted, but luck was not on my side. Glenda gave us a cute ceramic santa decor item from Hallmark. It was (and hopefully will be once again) a nice holiday decoration that Mike and I were excited to add it to our collection.
When we left Larry & Glenda's house after celebrating Larry's birthday, I carried out to the car what turned out to be too many bags. I opened the back door with the intent of placing most of the bags in the backseat. Before I sat Ella's bag, my purse, the bag of leftover food, a gift bag and a plastic bag which contained the santa wrapped up in paper, I decided I wanted my purse up front with me and not in the backseat. Rather that set all the bags down and grab my purse, I tried to juggle various straps as the bags were suspended in the air. The strap of the plastic bag slipped from my grasp and landed on the hard, cold driveway with a shatter.
Mike was in the process of strapping Ella into her car seat, and politely asked me, "what was that?" I didn't need to look down. I knew what it was and I knew a million pieces were waiting to greet me once I unwrapped the santa. I just said, "I'm sorry. It was santa, and I bet I broke him." That brief statement would come back to haunt me.
I retrieved the bag and gingerly unwrapped what previously had been a very cute holiday decoration. I let a quick sigh once I noticed it was a clean break and santa was only in two pieces. My spirits were lifted and I apologized again and said a little superglue was all it needed.
I safely secured the bag, closed the door and took my place in the front seat. My door hadn't even shut before Ella uttered, "Mama broke santa." I agreed with her, but reassured her that mommy was going to fix santa and santa could be fixed. She wasn't buying it, so the whole drive home, Ella repeatedly reminded me of my clumsy act, by continually and matter of factly stating, "Mama broke santa." With each utterance, my spirit dropped. I might as well have stolen candy from a child because I in her eyes had done the unthinkable. I broke santa.
I was hoping she had moved past it this morning, but upon returning from the grocery store, Ella from nowhere reminded me of my crime. I admit it. I'm not proud. Now if I can only find the superglue and maybe all will be right in the world once again.
Updated as of 11:08 pm: I learned santa was broken in not two but three pieces, but he now has been completely restored and has taken up residency on our hallway table thanks to Mr. Handy, my husband Mike.