Watch Out Santa, Here Comes Mr. Doo!

We had the excellent fortune of having Santa arrive at the movie theatre on the weekend! Papashunga's work hosts a Christmas party for their employee's families where it rents out the local theatre, buys everyone a pop and popcorn, and invites Santa to come for a visit after the show. We got to see Disney's Frozen, which was a treat. A bit darker than was expected, given that the happy-go-lucky reindeer/snowman trailers that have been playing for months would lead one to believe otherwise. But fun nonetheless.
The real treat here though was a visit from Santa. As soon as he walked into the theatre, Mr. Doo went into overdrive, shouting his greetings to Santa (who was on the other side of the theatre). He bounced in my lap and was doing his best to escape my grasp and make a beeline for the jolly man. Eventually, Santa settled into a comfy chair and a line of children quickly formed, all eager to meet the big man and list off their wishes. But none so eager as our Mr. Doo. He screamed and writhed in my arms, crying and wailing and giving a general impression of unhappiness. The truth was, he just couldn't wait for his turn. He wanted to see Santa and he wanted to see him NOW. As we waited in line, he would plead with me to put him down. Which I eventually would, because it isn't really all that easy to hold onto a floppy two year old. He would then take off in the general direction of Santa, bypassing the other kids in line and having the advantage of being able to zigzag in between adult legs on his way there. I caught him just in time though.
It amused me to hear some of the other parents talking, "Aw the poor child is terrified." "Why would she make him see Santa?" They obviously didn't have a clear picture of what was going on. Mr. Doo was on a mission, and all these people (plus the horrid Mamashunga) were holding him back. He was frustrated beyond reason.
When at last Mr. Doo was at the front of the line, I set him down and said, "Go ahead buddy, it's your turn now." Well, horses out of the gate at the track had nothing on my little man. He ran the distance and launched himself at the man in red with punishing force.

And then told Santa his heart's desire. A fire truck. A REAL one. I have explained to him that Santa only brings toys. I have reasoned with him that we don't have anywhere to park a fire truck. But he went for it anyway. And then he looked around and waited for it to appear. Which it didn't. How disappointing. However, just then, Santa's elf brings out a brightly wrapped gift, and hands it to Mr. Doo, who in turn sends me a triumphant look as if to say "See!?!?"
He shoots over to me, knocking me off kilter, and unfortunately causing me to miss out on snapping a pic of Tootie with Santa, who hopped on Santa's knee and was off again in the blink of an eye. All business. It may have had something to do with the realization that a gift awaited her once she got off. Luckily, someone else was set up snapping pics, so we will get one later.
But back to Mr. Doo and his fire truck. He begged, with lots of pleases for us to open it up then and there. He couldn't wait for Santa to deliver on his fire truck. So I obliged. We opened up the gift, and found...a Thomas the Train. Mr. Doo just stood and stared. "What the ****? That's not a firetruck!" He stood and stared and tried to make sense of what was happening. He had just asked the all powerful Santa Claus for a fire truck, and yet here he was, staring at a Thomas the Train. (It should be noted that he also likes Thomas quite a bit, but a truck is a truck and a train is a train.) I assured him that Santa was likely saving the fire truck for Christmas morning. It seemed to appease him, but I did overhear him tell his sister: "I asked Santa for a fire truck, but he didn't give it to me." Picture that sentence in a tiny two year old voice with tiny two year old hand gestures, and you have just entered a whole new realm of cuteness.