must be santa

Today, as we went out to finish the final bits of Xmas shopping still clinging to our lists, I had a moment. I have moments more often now that I'm a mother, and today's moment went something like this: I want to see Santa. With all of the usual Gen-X caveats applied, with all cynicism duly noted, let it be known that I still wanted to see Santa. And I wanted a picture of my little elf with the Big Elf.

The Boy agreed reluctantly, fearing for his schedule. But when I promised to finish all the Xmas shopping on my own, he stopped grumbling and made pleasant conversation in the (surprisingly short) line up. Blake spent this time sleeping in the Baby Trekker; securely lashed to his father's torso, he knew nothing of this 'Santa' we spoke of. We watched other babies, all tricked out in berets & tights & patent leather mary janes, go forward to smile on cue and get their rice crispie treats. Blake woke up shortly before his turn, and favoured us with a sleepy smile. Excellent omen, I thought.

Wrong.

My timing was a little off. This morning I left Blake in the gym day-care for the second time, and when they came to collect me after 40 minutes of aquaerobics, he was crying like his heart was gone. When I picked him up, he clung to me quietly, refusing to loosen his grip until the two of us were safely out of the room and into the pool changing area. He allowed himself to be taken by my mother, and the three of us spent a cheerful half hour splashing around. But he was far from recovered and he spent most of the day whining and clinging to our ankles like a bad-tempered pair of leg-warmers. Considering all of this behaviour, it was prolly a bad idea to take him sleeping through the mall and then plunk him on a stranger's lap before he'd had a chance to properly wake up.

I give full props to Santa for consummate professionalism. I was ready to give up and let the next people take a shot, but Santa took charge quietly and efficiently. As I soothed Blake again, Santa issued quiet instructions to the photographer and brought forward a small padded bench. I was told to sit Blake on that bench, something Blake found relatively inoffensive, and Santa crouched silently behind. Without touching my prickly pear offspring, Santa gave the illusion that all was well. Blake didn't exactly have a smile in him, but I find the resultant picture highly amusing nonetheless:

A few things around here you should know about:

• our trip to Chicago is written, illustrated and up.
• I've added a link section to my parenting bibliography for parents on the web.
• I've scammed a javascript file for a new random "I breastfeed..." button (to the right). I find it endlessly amusing, and will update as humorous conclusions occur to me.
• I saw two of my students Xmas shopping tonight. I feel very very old.
• Buying Scherezade's Xmas present was the most fun I've had in a store.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 12/22/2004 09:47:00 p.m.