As anyone who writes knows……..you have to be inspired,
driven, courted by the muse, in order to produce decent handy work. My muse visits
in fits and starts at the most inopportune moments. As I am changing a diaper thoughts of butterflies dancing in the wind
fill me with the desire to create. My fingers itch with anticipation, aching
to plunk away at the keyboard. Then the smell brings me back…..to the reality of a bare naked baby attempting to squirm free
from my iron clad double ankle grasp.
Today the muse decided to pay me a visit whilst
I waited in line to see Santa. Lest you believe I have finally gone insane, which is always indeed a possibility, I wasn’t
waiting to see him for my benefit but for that of my children who insisted that NOTHING good would come of a Christmas morn
that had not first been discussed with the “Big Guy”.
In the center of the mall, already deemed
a place of magic thanks to the ingenious padded play areas, was made even more magical with the appearance of a gigantic bejeweled
Christmas tree surrounded with fluffy white “snow” stuff. In front of this visual
delight sat HIM, the giver of gifts, the granter of wishes and the eater of cookies….SANTA.
While we were waiting in line I chatted with the
ladies around me. This is when my dear Muse decided to arrive. I realized with a giggle, that I had become the weird old lady
who bursts into conversation with perfect strangers simply because they are near enough to hear her. In addition to my one
sided chat sessions with younger, thinner, much prettier moms than me, the muse pointed out other little juicy tidbits to
share.
Sean had been munching an apple as we waited patiently
for our turn to snuggle with a strange old man in a hot red suit. As he peered over the fence railing meant to corral active
youngsters, he lost a grip on his apple and it tumbled over the fence, bounced across the fluffy white “snow” and rolled under
the monster Christmas tree that served as Santa’s most fabulous backdrop. Sean
screeched with anguish as his precious snack rolled away…forever irretrievable. I briefly contemplated hopping the fence,
crawling under the tree and finding his lost treasure as any Super Mom would. Then thought better of it, knowing I had to
reserve my energy for the wrestling match with two three year old boys that lay ahead when they realized they were expected
to SIT on that old guys lap.
Once the internal decision was made NOT to go after
the apple, it tickled me to imagine the mall staff when they finally find it, fuzzy and shrunken in about 3 weeks.
In the end, the visit went well. The boys were ecstatic
to finally meet Santa and had no trouble whatsoever sitting on his lap or sharing with him their deepest desires for Christmas
morning.
And the Muse promised to visit more often.
