I've lived in the Chicagoland area for a decade now and yet, it wasn't until two years ago that I went to the Chicago Christkindlmarket for the first time. Which is crazy because, duh, German food, ornaments, and boots of wine. Now that I work down the street I can make up for lost time and pop over for a bratwurst and gluhwein lunch but I've never gotten the whole family down there for some wholesome Teutonic holiday fun. Until now.
I had planned to take the kids down on Sunday with my friend but when it looked likely that she would be sporting a massive hangover that day, I decided to reschedule. That is until Bruce told me he had the morning off from hockey and offered to drive us all down there. He must have felt bad for me for some reason. Or had a fever. Large crowds, long lines and spending money on Christmas decorations aren't usually his jam. Alcohol in footwear and tubed meat products apparently are. And of course a visit to Santa is right in Calder's wheelhouse. Since Wren's jam is eating all the things, I figured she'd be down regardless.
Because the apocalypse is coming, it was about 50 degrees on Sunday so the place was a madhouse. I was hoping the Bears being on would have a mitigating effect on the crowd but no such luck. Still, the line for Santa moved quickly and Calder had his catalog to keep him busy. No really, he brought a toy catalog to show Santa. Wren, on the other hand, whiled away the time by attempting to lead a toddler uprising amongst the other short members of the line.
|Presents are serious biznezz|
|Santa's slot machine never pays out|
|She's trying to eat the ornaments, just like at home|
|Forcing the elves to work faster|
|Climbing daddy's face to get away|
|Also please 'shop out that weird purse strap boob holster thing I've got going on that would be super, thx|