The Polar Express

Y'all, last night it was FREEZING at the North Pole. And also in New Hampshire. And who are we kidding? Maine wasn't much warmer.

As Caed said in between chattering, "I bet it's not even ZEE-ROH degrees here!"

So just to keep in mind, if you want your Polar Express trip to feel realistic, New Hampshire is the place to do it. Wicked cold, my friends.

And you guys, we had a BLAST. Both in the arctic sense and the fun sense. You can't really tell from the pictures, though. You'll just have to trust me.
Our wonderful neighbors and friends scored Polar Express tickets (via lottery) and invited us to come along. We owe them big time.
And would you like to see the look on Dani's face when she first saw Santa?
She looks a bit wary, but no sooner did he walk past than she turned to me and grinned, "Mama, Dat was Santa. He's heeeere. I saw him!"
And the above picture is of Dani giving Daddy the boot. Hiiiyah!

On the return trip, we joined in a sing along with a train engineer/Sinatra wannabe who liked to add his own little cadence to the Christmas songs. Dani jingle jangled her sleigh bell for a solid ten minutes, and Larry very enthusiastically sang about figgy pudding. It was a jolly good time.

Both kids fell fast asleep on the drive home, ruddy cheeked and snotty-nosed, clutching their treasured sleigh bells that only those who believe can hear.

If I was one of those sappy mommy bloggers, I would end by saying "It was magical."
Oh right. I am one of those sappy mommy bloggers. Yeah, well it WAS magical, okay?

FREEZING. But magical.