In the Summer of 1978, we visited Santa’s Village in Vermont. I was 5. I vaguely remember a few rides, a large climber, and feeding the deer. Lunch was a picnic. The highlight, of course, was talking to Santa.
Mom and Dad let my brother and I each pick out a Christmas ornament from the Souvenir shop. My brother chose a straw mouse soldier. I chose a cardboard angel with a lace dress, a sparkly halo, and gauzy wings. She’s a little battered, but I still have her!
It was a magical Christmas in July!
We took Little Guy to a Santa’s Village near us a few summers ago. Instead of camping, we stayed in a hotel. He wasn’t overly impressed and refused to visit Santa. It was a scorching day, and I can’t imagine what the temperature would be inside the Workshop. He’s also way more mature than his mother!
Have a Magical Weekend!
jennsmidlifecrisis 
Christmas in July is just wrong on so many levels. I apparently skipped right over the word “summer” in your opening line, because when I saw the picture of you on Santa’s lap in the summer clothes, I was wondering what kind of December heat wave there must have been that year…
I had to shovel the driveway this morning… I wouldn’t have minded a little heat to melt it instead! 😎