Wednesday, 7 December 2011


In advance. This post may offend you. If you dress your children like elves at Christmas time.

At Ruby's request and instruction from the magic pockets, the kids had their photo taken with Santa on Monday, for the first time. Perhaps I fib when I say first. First real time anyway. Ruby had her photo taken two years ago with him when my sister convinced her it would be a good idea. Ruby has always been petrified of Santa, until this year. It was one of those photos they do when Santa is hiding behind his chair, while mum (in this case Aunty Bree) sits in the big chair with petrified child on her lap (looking especially petrified). Not this year though. No, since Santa pitched camp at our local Westfield, she tries to spot him through the door while we are parking the car. We visit him to wave and high five him at least twice (sometimes thrice) each trip to the shops, even if we are there for half an hour. And when he asks what she would like for Christmas, she gets all tongue tied staring at his glasses and photographically memorising his every detail, until she can blurt out 'whizzy toothbrush'. Cole would like a 'big boy bike'. GREEN. I am sure Santa thinks here comes that crazy lady again when he sees me heading in his direction. One of the Santas actually remembered the kids' names, two days in a row. Oh dear.

{proof - albeit bad instagram photo of a photo proof}

All went well and the kids smiled on cue - even Eliot. Santa's helpers were very impressed. I think they expected some fireworks when they saw three little people heading for the big guy, including a baby. We were done in a flash and out of the 'cage' (as Ruby calls it) with our two overpriced 6x8's. Do people really buy those gigantic mega packs with a gazillion prints in every size imaginable? Other centres may have better trained photographers in charge of the clicking, but the girls at our local (as friendly as they are) are lucky their incredibly authentic Santa makes up for their shithouse photography. Really, the chair wasn't straight in the photo and they cut the top of it off. And the camera is set on a tripod. How hard can it be? Yes, the anally retentive gene runs in the family. Even for completely unimportant things like photos with Santa.

The kids loved it, perhaps their reindeer ears and flashing noses even more. And Missy has definitely conquered her Santaphobia.

Today I had to head over with the boys, while Ruby was at kindy. As I passed Santa (yes passed, no stop necessary with Missy's absence and Cole sound asleep, E couldn't care less) I watched a mum hand her little guy (he looked around six months-ish) to Santa, dressed head to toe like an elf*. I laugh as I type the words. I can still see him. This poor defenceless bub being handed over to a big, hairy, scary, red man, while he tried to cling to mum with everything he had, to the very tips of his fingernails. He was clearly distressed, his little face contorted, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes locked on mum, pleading to come back and take him from the scary man. But no, mum stood a metre away smiling and cooing, trying to get the perfect Christmas card shot with her son dressed as an elf. A very unhappy one. I thought, who wants to receive a Christmas card, open it up and find a photo of a screaming child sitting on Santa's knee, dressed like an elf? The elves are meant to like Santa. Christmas coloured clothes I can understand, it gives a lovely festive feel. Hell I even like to wear more red than normal this time of year. But an elf suit? I don't get it? Each to their own.

As much as Cole loved a cuddle with Santa, he loves a cuddle with Pa much more.

*I must admit the candy striped tights were incredibly cute.

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