Don't Buzz Kill Me Santa

When I was little, like many kids, I was taken to see Santa in a department store. I was amped up for it but a nervous kid in general, so I was also flat-out scared. My older brother took me and claimed the line wrapped around the store. As we got closer and closer I got more scared.
What will I say?
What if I can't understand Santa?
What if Santa says I was not good enough to get a present?
And
What if I have to tinkle?
My brother said I was fine until I got to be next and then I burst into tears and refused to go. I remember it in sharper detail than that, plus my internal dialogue (IamnotscaredIamnotscaredIamnotscared). But I agree: I cried and backed away after all that time in line. Boy, was my brother pissed at me.
To say the least, it was a buzz kill -- when really all I wanted to feel was relief.

I am thinking of this tonight because I am in the frantic moments before leaving work for a week's vacation. I do want simple relief: no commute, time to read. But, Santa -- I am also in the mood for a buzz. You owe me one.

Happy Holidays and see you in 2007.