Diabetes

Took the kids to see Santa yesterday. At this particular location, Santa sits in a cute little house and you wait in line outside. So when it’s your turn, you really get to hangout with Santa. No whiney kids staring at you and pushing you along. Just you, Santa and some “toy talk.”

We arrived at Santa’s cottage around 1 PM. There was a family ahead of us waiting to go in. When Santa’s elf popped her head out to call that family in, she proceeded to give us the bad news.

Elf: Sorry, but they are going to be the last family Santa will see.
Me: What? He can’t see my kids? There’s no one else after us! They have their letters and everything. When is he going to be back?
Elf: We can’t say for sure.
Me: So we just hang out here for 1-3 hours hoping he comes back?

The elf then bent down to Grady and Annie Bea and said something I never saw coming.

Elf: Hey kids. Santa has diabetes so he needs to take a break and get something to eat.

WHAT? Santa has diabetes? WHAT? Are you out of your elfing mind? You’re telling my 6 and 3-year-olds that Santa has a life threatening disease so he can’t suck on a candy cane and get enough sugar to push through for 5 more minutes?

Unfortunately, this elf didn’t know who she was dealing with.

Grady: No way! My dad has diabetes, too!

Needless to say, Santa and his not-so-jolly pancreas welcomed us with open arms and we got this sweet picture.

Ho ho ho. Wheeeeeeere’s my insulin?

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