Last year, our trip to see Santa could not have been any more seamless. There was not a line. Abby was in a great mood. Santa looked great (no fake beard here!). And the picture was absolutely perfect! Take a look at this:
So somewhere in my wild imagination, I had visions that this year we would be as lucky. We got Abby all dressed up after dinner on Friday night (maybe mistake #1). She wore a cute black velvet jumper with white turtleneck underneath, white tights, and black shoes. You could eat her with a spoon she was so cute. We got in line at the mall and she was in a pretty good mood. She liked looking at all of the decorations and she babbled while we were in line. We pointed out who she was getting ready to see and she would say “ho, ho, ho!” So we were feeling really positive. Until . . .
It was our turn. Santa’s helper called for us and Abby had a cow. A full throw-herself-in-the-floor cow. I picked her up and carried her over to introduce her to the Big Man in Red and she calms down a little bit until I try to sit her on his lap. So I sat down with her to see if she would calm down. She did. A little.
I just wanted one picture. ONE. Just to mark her 2nd Christmas. It took 5 or 6 shots to get one where she wasn’t screaming or didn’t have a look of sheer terror. This is what we got:
I hated Santa as a child so I guess this is payback for what I did to my mom. Adopted or not, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.