A picture of my kids with Santa. This one is not what I had in mind. J is much too mature for such nonsense. He'd rather help me jump around and make faces trying to get the other two to laugh. Or smile. Or at least look interested. We did make the other people in the line smile with our antics. I'm sure it was in a patronizing, can-we-get-this-show-on-the-road way. I didn't get what I wanted; neither did they.
N agreed to do it without hesitation. Later he told me it was because last year he received a coupon from Santa for a free cookie at the mall cookie store and wanted another this year. He didn't want to ante up the funds himself so he chose Plan B, a picture with Santa, as the best option. Now, this is the punk who can't remember a Grammar rule two minutes after I teach it to him, but he can remember an obscure cookie coupon from a nasty, drunk, mall Santa a year ago. ARGH!! I guess I can live with reluctant participation and an ulterior motive.
M screamed. All toddlers scream at Santa. At least that's been my experience of three. Not a very large data sample, but let me tell you they've all screamed. It's okay, Santa is scary. I feel sorry for putting all of them through that trauma. But not sorry enough not to do it. I don't think I could live with myself years from now if I don't have screaming Santa pictures to gush over with their girlfriends.
So here's the final outcome. We're going to try a different approach this weekend. Maybe. If my nerves can take it.
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