Now that she knows Santa is taking her binky when he comes this Christmas, she's no longer thrilled with the idea of a jolly ol' elf breaking into the house late at night and leaving gifts of toys and sweets behind.
Even though he's likely going to be giving her big-girl lip gloss (as a bait and switch) in exchange for the beloved soother, she's torn. If she were of devious intention, I'm sure she'd neglect to remind us to exinguish the fire in the woodstove (where she thinks Sir Claus will sneak in on Christmas Eve).
It would seem I've unintentionally turned his very elven existence* into something that is not so carefree and joyous.
I can't say that I blame her.