I took Eva to see Santa Claus last Friday. Sort of.
When I was little, seeing Santa Claus involved standing in line for a half hour at the nearest mall so you could climb up on Santa’s lap, spend five seconds chatting about Christmas, get an awkward Polaroid taken, and retreat hastily. There was also one time when Santa came to our church and gave all of the little kids presents. I remember because I got a pair of pink furry earmuffs that were too cheap to stay on my head and the nastiest girl in Sunday School got a beautiful doll with a satin bonnet. The injustices of childhood just stick with you, don’t they?
Anyway, I didn’t take Eva to the mall. I took her to the same local photography studio that did her newborn photo session, FotoFly. FotoFly is doing a special Santa promotion where they take at least one good photo (and probably 4-6 good photos) of your child with Santa for only $20. When I found out that it was $30 to get a photo taken with Santa at the local mall (are you SERIOUS?), I grabbed a coveted FotoFlySanta spot and picked up a pair of holiday pajamas for the tater tot.
So, quirky thing about this Santa session: there was no Santa. The “Santa” you see is actually me, the suffering mother, dressed up in a Santa costume and artfully shot so my head is cut off. The idea is that kids are less likely to be screaming bloody murder if they aren’t getting photographed with a stranger. This is all fine, except for the part where Eva’s first Santa experience was actually just me with a white beard on, telling her to smile at the strange man taking her photo. I feel like that has to be confusing on a basic level, even for a nine month old.
Oh, and the darling holiday pajamas I picked up just for the occasion? Huge problem. We shot the photos on a hardwood floor and Little Miss didn’t have any grippers on the bottom of her feet, so she slipped and slid all over the place until we gave in and sat her down.
They did have a Santa on hand for anyone who wanted a “real” Santa picture or for kids who just wanted to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. I told Eva to tell Santa that she wanted a full scholarship to the local creme-de-la-preschool, but she couldn’t be bothered to even smile at the camera. The best I could get was her trying to steal the watch of one of the photographers trying to entertain her. Santa did not seem amused.