Anyone have a number for Santa?

I swore I would never do it, I never wanted to participate in the commercialization of Christmas or manipulate our children with old Saint Nick. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. Today it was about pants.

It was a busy weekend, holiday parties, purchasing a small tree and wreath, a U2 concert, etc etc. Needless to say, laundry wasn’t on my list hence the lack of clean “jeans” in Reilly’s draw. He prides himself in choosing his outfit each day. And today, he asked me to get out of bed at 6:50am and wash him some jeans. (he had asked Meredith to wash them in the dryer the night before) I told him it takes time and he would have to wear something else for the day. He’s got about 4 other pairs of pants – but they are not denim so they don’t fit the bill.

I began with the less fortunate approach. I am my mother and I tried to guilt him into wearing what he had in his draw. Only, for me, it was the starving people in “Beafra”. To no avail. And then… it happened, with Kate in my arms, I looked down at her and said “hang on Kate, I have to call Santa because Reilly isn’t cooperating” and I proceeded to begin dialing the phone (really my voicemail). Reilly jumped off the bed and yelled “NO NO NO NO, I’ll wear them, I’ll wear these ones, see? Don’t call, don’t call” and within seconds he was wearing a cute pair of khaki cords. Phew.

I must admit, since the effect was so prompt and got me my desired outcome, I’m sure it will be in my bag of tricks moving forward. I really am doing all those things I thought I would never do prior to being a parent. Oh well.

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