I cried, broken hearted that not one of the many photos my sister attempted to take of us at Breakfast with Santa turned out. I washed my hair and everything, that doesn't happen every Saturday you know. Really, it wasn't her fault, she tried, but we were working against the lighting and the angles and badly decorated Christmas trees. I try and tell myself it's just another photo, but I really wanted one of the three of us, because right now we are still three.
Last year my little man shrieked like a banshee when he came within five feet of Santa, even after letting him warm up to the idea and watch dozens of others do it before him. He marched right up to Santa this year and with the most serious of faces, told him exactly what he wanted for Christmas (he wants this play set, but armed with the faith that Santa would understand his language, he said very plainly: Mack.)
In that respect, I guess This photo is not so bad. The look on his face, his hands enveloped by Santa. I am a stark realist; Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing photos in Christmas Cards but I know no one else on this planet thinks your kids are as cute as you do, so my theory is that the whole point of sending pictures of your kids in Christmas cards every year must be to demonstrate that there has been growth. Progress made. Another successful trip around the sun. Otherwise we would send the same old cute photo year after year. Speaking for myself, I am proud that we made it through another year and the photo is a celebration. It wasn't easy getting here but we made it AND oh my god he's so cute too isn't he?
Here's what we ended up with. It wasn't what I pictured in my mind, but Christmas in general usually isn't either.
That doesn't mean it's not really good.
