The Blessed Holy Tradition of Mall Santa
December 18, 2012
Heh. Heh heh.
Look at that pack of disheveled little cheesebars. WHERE IS THEIR MOTHER AND WHY DOESN'T SHE DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
So I really thought this year would be the year that ended our streak of having all the kids smiling while sitting on Santa's lap.
(Well, more like two kids smiling, while the other one stares confusedly off into the horizon, like maaaan, I have no idea what's going on right now.)
I actually predicted that Ike would probably cry. While the general amount of Photo Ham around our house is reaching Def Con 5, Deep-Fried Pork Belly With A Side Of CHEEEEEESE levels, Ike tends to get a little shy and reserved around strangers. Combined with some really bad timing on our part, it looked like we'd be depositing him on the giant fluffy red stranger's lap about a good hour past naptime.
Now, SOME PARENTS (read: the non-asshole kind) might decide to just skip the santa photo this year, instead of deliberately setting their toddler up for tears. Or at least decide to try again a different day. Or at least make some attempt at coordinated holiday fashion beyond: Uh. Everybody Put On A Sweater, We're Going To Sears!
(I'm asking because I can't tell. Ezra actually might. I know for a fact his underwear was and sometimes those things tend to get mixed up together.)
But Ike surprised me by being completely chill about the whole befuddling experience, probably thanks to his older brothers being there and appropriately excited. Noah asked for (surprise) Hobbit Legos, and Ezra asked for (ohgodhelpusall) a drum set.
Oh yeah. There's child-sized drum set in a box in my office RIGHT NOW, people. We are so in for it, we don't even know how in for it we are.
Ike asked for the box of hand-me-down toddler toys I just stumbled upon in the basement three weeks ago (including the FUCK YEAH BALL POPPER), so...you know. He'll be super happy about that.
Anyway, I should report that four out of five toddlers ahead of us in line screamed inconsolably during their entire visit with Santa. That either means we win, or else our toddler has already given up on trying to understand any of the fool stupid shit we make him do.