We walked up to Santa's workshop at the mall. All you could see as we stood in line was the back of Santa's hat.
"Is that Santa??" Wyatt asked, his eyes as big as the snowballs hanging from the trees.
"That's Santa, Wyatt. Are you going to sit on his lap?"
Wyatt waited a minute before answering, "YAH! And I'm going to tell him I want a BIG-BIG Powpow!"
Being in the middle of an Oregon mall, where it is perceived that any interest in guns may as well be your child's golden ticket into jail, I was a little concerned about Santa's reaction to Wyatt asking for a gun, but decided I had no choice but to roll with it.
We were up. Bryan and I had been prepping Wyatt for weeks. Months even. Telling him stories about Santa, reminding him about being nice vs. naughty (though the latter is continuously favored). Last year turned into a total meltdown as I forced him onto the big guy's lap, so I wanted him to be prepared. Weston was a wild card in the equation but I figured with enough of my idiotic antics in the background I could get him to smile. I just prayed no one I knew would be in the mall that day or they would surely take a video of me dancing around yelling, "TURK TURK!!" and it would go viral in a matter of minutes.
As the lady unhooked the red velvet rope, I could hardly hold Wyatt back. He ran around to face Santa and climbed up onto his lap without any hesitation.
"Hi Santa!" he said with the biggest grin.
Santa proceeded to ask Wyatt what he wanted for Christmas. Santa was a little hard of hearing at which point Wyatt yelled POW-POW for all of Washington Square to hear. I had to get Santa up to date and let him know that daddy was a hunter and Wyatt wanted a gun for Christmas. I'm sure Santa has those lying all around his shop... right?
Picture time. I propped myself beside the photographer and smirked at her completely ineffective bell that she was trying to ring to get the kids attention. Action time.
I prepared her. "I'm going to act like an idiot just so you know."
"Lady I'm wearing an elf hat. Who am I to judge?"
Point taken.
"Turk-turk-turk!"
*click*
"TURK-TURK-TURK!"
*click*click*
Don't ask why the turkey thing works. Bryan started doing it when Weston was a few months old and it has managed to bring a smile every time. At this point my stroller has a flat tire, I'm out of fruit snacks, and Santa looks like he needs a drink.. or may have already had one. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get a picture and get out of this wonderland.
Out of 5 pictures, the first one was a keeper but I knew we could do better. The next two had Wyatt was staring in wide-eyed wonder at Santa while Weston was in a full-on perfect gummy grin. In the 4th Weston was pulling Santa's beard and Wyatt was hitting him trying to get him to stop. And in the 5th Weston finally figured out that the guy with the beard wasn't Papa and was ready to get off the imposter's lap.
So we went with the first and called it a day. It only lasted a few minutes, but seeing the look in Wyatt's eyes as he sat there with Santa truly brought tears to my eyes. To know that we have formed our son's imagination enough to believe in the idea of something as magical as Mr.Clause himself felt like a bit of an accomplishment, if not a miracle... though maybe not on 44th St., a miracle all the same.
Merry Christmas from the Dennis family. As always, truly blessed.
"Is that Santa??" Wyatt asked, his eyes as big as the snowballs hanging from the trees.
"That's Santa, Wyatt. Are you going to sit on his lap?"
Wyatt waited a minute before answering, "YAH! And I'm going to tell him I want a BIG-BIG Powpow!"
Being in the middle of an Oregon mall, where it is perceived that any interest in guns may as well be your child's golden ticket into jail, I was a little concerned about Santa's reaction to Wyatt asking for a gun, but decided I had no choice but to roll with it.
We were up. Bryan and I had been prepping Wyatt for weeks. Months even. Telling him stories about Santa, reminding him about being nice vs. naughty (though the latter is continuously favored). Last year turned into a total meltdown as I forced him onto the big guy's lap, so I wanted him to be prepared. Weston was a wild card in the equation but I figured with enough of my idiotic antics in the background I could get him to smile. I just prayed no one I knew would be in the mall that day or they would surely take a video of me dancing around yelling, "TURK TURK!!" and it would go viral in a matter of minutes.
As the lady unhooked the red velvet rope, I could hardly hold Wyatt back. He ran around to face Santa and climbed up onto his lap without any hesitation.
"Hi Santa!" he said with the biggest grin.
Santa proceeded to ask Wyatt what he wanted for Christmas. Santa was a little hard of hearing at which point Wyatt yelled POW-POW for all of Washington Square to hear. I had to get Santa up to date and let him know that daddy was a hunter and Wyatt wanted a gun for Christmas. I'm sure Santa has those lying all around his shop... right?
Picture time. I propped myself beside the photographer and smirked at her completely ineffective bell that she was trying to ring to get the kids attention. Action time.
I prepared her. "I'm going to act like an idiot just so you know."
"Lady I'm wearing an elf hat. Who am I to judge?"
Point taken.
"Turk-turk-turk!"
*click*
"TURK-TURK-TURK!"
*click*click*
Don't ask why the turkey thing works. Bryan started doing it when Weston was a few months old and it has managed to bring a smile every time. At this point my stroller has a flat tire, I'm out of fruit snacks, and Santa looks like he needs a drink.. or may have already had one. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get a picture and get out of this wonderland.
Out of 5 pictures, the first one was a keeper but I knew we could do better. The next two had Wyatt was staring in wide-eyed wonder at Santa while Weston was in a full-on perfect gummy grin. In the 4th Weston was pulling Santa's beard and Wyatt was hitting him trying to get him to stop. And in the 5th Weston finally figured out that the guy with the beard wasn't Papa and was ready to get off the imposter's lap.
So we went with the first and called it a day. It only lasted a few minutes, but seeing the look in Wyatt's eyes as he sat there with Santa truly brought tears to my eyes. To know that we have formed our son's imagination enough to believe in the idea of something as magical as Mr.Clause himself felt like a bit of an accomplishment, if not a miracle... though maybe not on 44th St., a miracle all the same.
Merry Christmas from the Dennis family. As always, truly blessed.
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