Out of the Mouths of Babes: Parade Prattle
Not to be out done, near the end of the parade Connor ran upstairs to the kitchen where I was finishing up the cinnamon pull-apart bread, another holiday tradition in our home. “Santa Claus is coming soon,” he said, “I don’t want him to see me.” Puzzled, I turned to look at him. He was crouched on the floor next to a kitchen chair. “Why,” I chided, “because you’ve been so naughty?” “Yes,” he replied. Well, he is honest; maybe that will count for something when Santa checks his list twice.