The reconnaissance missions begin the day after Thanksgiving, with findings exchanged in cryptic e-mails and furtive conversations.
"Checked out Meadow Glen. Good classic outfit. Backdrop's a little cheesy, though. They do some kind of superimposed digital thing. The elf-helper guy was nice...very patient. No line at all before noon."
"Snuck by Burlington Mall. More of an old-world European sort of Santa. Nice Christmas village set-up, nothing too commercial. The line was wicked long, though. Could try getting there before the mall opens or maybe try doing lunch in the stroller while you wait..."
"Stone Zoo...sweet set-up. The nicest guy you'd ever hope to find with a gorgeous real beard. Problem is, you've got to pay to get in and schlep through the cold to get to Santa's Village in the back of the zoo...."
"Don't forget the Yankee Candle Store! Yeah, so, it's a two-hour drive one way. They have the best workshop set-up around. Totally cool display. Try to work it around naptime so the kid sleeps at least part-way there??"
I'm almost dead serious, folks.
We mommies are weird. I have a theory about our insatiable desire to track down the perfect Santa portrait. I believe that our brains have a desire to continue to be utilized to the greatest extent we've ever regularly utilized them. For me, that was in grad school, when I wrote papers about the difference betwen the "production of national identity" and the "creation of national identity" and had barstool conversations about how to reconcile cultural relativism and female genital mutilation. (Yeah, I eventually ran screaming from that path.) Anyway, now that I'm a stay-at-home mommy, my brain sometimes feels rather, well, flaccid. Underutilized. Void. So, I find myself filling up the empty spaces by memorizing the nutritional content of various child-friendly breakfast cereals, analyzing the debate about the effects of bovine growth hormone on premature sexual maturity, and conducting an almost scientific study of the very best New England has to offer in terms of The Man in Red.
The scary thing is, I'm not alone. My mommy friends are doing it, too.
Here are my two attempts at a perfect capture...
First, here's Meadow Glen Mall. Elliott screamed holy hell for a few minutes, but then calmed down enough to snap this one after Santa showed him the blinking light on Rudolph's nose:
And then there's the fateful Stone Zoo attempt. Elliott just wasn't having any of it. Screaming, real tears rolling the second I set him down. Good Ole St. Nick just smiled and said, "How 'bout a family portrait?" He asked how old Elliott was and when we said 15 months he just nodded and said, "Kids hate Santa from about a year until they're around 3."
I have to ask myself why in the heck we mommies are so hell bent on having our babies' pictures taken with Santa to begin with. They're too young to know who Santa is...they just know that they are scared to death at being handed over to a stranger. It's kind of cruel, really, intentionally frightening our children just to get a snap to present to the grandparents. We same mommies who are so hip on choosing the very best in developmentally-appropriate Melissa and Doug all-wood-from-renewable-trees purposely torment our children with something they are developmentally ill-equipped to cope with.
I'd like to think that next year I'll be a better mom, that I'll put Elliott's feelings first and won't put him through the trauma of stranger anxiety. But, I know I'll do it again next year, though. Honestly, thank goodness Santa's headed back up to the North Pole or I'd probably try for a better shot this year.
Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!
Nieka
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