Santa Baby.

We finally got our pics taken with the Big Guy in Red.
It was a 50:50 affair.

The six year old ran into his arms. They snuggled, sang songs, discussed how much she was growing, how much she loved her gifts from last year and of course her wish list for this year.

When I say list - I really do mean list. My girl is a material girl. She LOVES things. I spend a lot of time thinking about this. Is it my doing? When I was a child, money was an issue. Christmas was always abundant though. I waited all year for toys. Maybe I've set up this expectation in my kid even although she has abundance year long.
Who am I kidding? Let's take the maybe out of that sentence.

So in classic parenting hypocrisy I am now lecturing about how we only ask Santa for three things. Most of my friends draw the line at one. I have a way to go...

The baby is unsure as soon as she sees Santa. She hides behind the husbands legs, clinging.
We try and work up to it. Eventually she is standing next to him holding my hand. I, of course, want the photo op. I warn the photographer and pop the baby on Santa's knees. I'm sure they heard the screams in the North Pole.
We now have the classic pic but a miserable child.

Santa's Elf (seriously - not a desirable job) saves the day.
She hands the girls a candy cane. The furious tears dry up instantly. Hmmm - maybe not so upset after all.

I take a moment to snuggle with Santa myself. He remembers me from when I was a girl.
Which makes the six year old's eyes wide with wonder.
One more golden moment for the list.

We exit smiling. The baby even waves goodbye to Santa.
Mission accomplished.