The Santa photo

My dad is a photographer.  I used to be a photographer (and of course I can still be one if I so chose…).  So you’d think with cameras around all the time, Hannah would be the most photogenic little thing ever.  Except she’s not.  She never has been.  I hardly have any photos of her smiling.  The only way to get one is to have the person taking the photo pretty much hide in the bushes while Hannah goes about her business.  As soon she sees that camera, the serious face, the frowny face, or the angry face comes out.  Or the running legs, straight towards the camera in hopes of grabbing it.

Needless to say, getting a good Santa photo is pretty much impossible.  Last year The Jess and I took her while Aaron was at work and we ended up having to sit with her in the photo.  That of course, was kind of odd since Aaron wasn’t in the photo, so we had to go back and get one with Hannah and Aaron.

But now Hannah loves Santa.  He features in a couple Mickey Mouse episodes, and even a Dora episode.  I told Hannah we were going to see Santa, and that she’d get to sit with him, and tell him what she wants for Christmas.  She was very excited.  She was asking to go all morning.

Aaron carried her over to Santa’s sleigh, but there was no smile.  No squeal of delight.  No excited “Hi Santa!!”  Nope, there was a frowny face, silence, a lot of staring, and about a foot between her and Santa.

On the other side of Santa, there was a little Daniel, sitting on his lap, ravenously hungry after waiting in the Santa line for half an hour.  Fingers in mouth, eyes anywhere but the camera.  Then the crying started.  Seems babies really are ruled by their stomachs.

Before we got there, I had high hopes of getting the perfect Santa photo.

But instead, it looked like this:

Maybe if Santa wasn’t just sitting there, with his blank stare and unmoving body.  I remember sitting on Santa’s lap when I was little.  He always asked me what I wanted for Christmas, showed lots of enthusiasm and then gave me a candy cane at the end.

A couple days later we decided to try again, since I didn’t have a decent photo to buy the first time.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  I don’t want to see Santa!!!!”  Hannah screamed.  She was not impressed.

The moment her bottom hit that squishy seat next to Santa, her face crinkled up, tears poured from her eyes.  She stood up and held out her little arms, screaming for me to come and get her.

Daniel was in a good mood.  His belly was full, he’d had a good nap. He was smiling like a trooper.  So in the end, this is what we ended up with:

Which is great, if we only had one child.  Oh well, it’s better than nothing.

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Rotund man in fake beard and bright red suit: SCARY!

Last years Santa photo

I’m not quite sure what the obsession with Santa photos is.  Heck, I’m a mom myself, and I don’t even know.  I do know that I definitely, 100%, want to get Hannah’s photo taken with Santa.  She got one last year (although that one didn’t go so well…), I’ll want her to get one next year, and probably even the year after that.  I’m not quite sure at what age a parent no longer feels this burning desire to make their child sit on a strange, fake bearded, bright red suit wearing, rotund man’s lap, but I guess sooner or later I will get there.  Or Hannah will protest so strongly and eloquently that I will have no choice.

I bought Hannah a nice new greenish sundress dress (so it would compliment Santa’s suit of course), put her fine bubba hair in pigtails, and washed all the gunk off her face.  I don’t know how she manages to have so many collections of gunk of her face, but she does.  I don’t call her cheeky monkey for nothing.

As we approached the queue (ahem, line for those of you who are not Australians), Hannah clung to me a little tighter.  She knew something was up, something not the norm.  She watched other kids sit on Santa’s lap, jolly smiles on their faces, squeals of delight emerging from their lips.  She clung tighter.  She watched as Santa gave them antler headbands to wear, a gift of thanks for getting their photos taken on the strange man’s lap.  Her legs wrapped around me.  I probably could have let go of her and she wouldn’t have fallen.

Our turn came and we entered Santa’s little roped off area.  We approached Santa.  Santa looked at Hannah, and gave her a

Santa photo with Me and The Jess

jolly smile, his fake beard and mustache hiding most of his mouth.  Hannah doesn’t cry a whole lot, but at that moment, she screamed bloody murder.  Her whole body was shaking.  My poor little bubba was TERRIFED of Santa claus.  She didn’t even want to look at him.

“Why don’t you sit on his lap too, and she can sit on your lap.”  The assistant suggested.  Um…ok.

“This is awkard.”  Yeah, I actually said that to the fake, strange Santa Claus man.  He gave no reply.  I’m pretty sure he had no come back for that one.

We were still far too close to Santa for Hannah’s comfort and she wouldn’t settle down in the slightest.   Not even with Auntie Jess making silly faces at her.  They snapped one photo and that was it.  I wasn’t going to traumatise my poor little monkey any further.

There was no way I was going to spend money on that horrid photo-  me, sitting awkwardly on Santa’s lap, Hannah trying desperately to escape the whole situation.  It was not a pretty sight.

Santa photo with me and Aaron

We went upstairs to Myer to have a go with their Santa.  Maybe she would be more comfortable in a quieter setting, something that isn’t right in the middle of a large shopping centre.  She still didn’t like Santa.  This one though, didn’t make her immediately burst into tears on sight.  She wouldn’t sit in his lap.  I guess I can’t really blame her.  I can’t say I enjoy sitting in random peoples laps either.  And lets face it, facial hair is scary regardless.

We did manage to get a photo of The Jess, Hannah and me on Santa’s chair, with Santa cheekily peeking out from behind the chair, not at all in sight of the terrified Hannah.  I thought it would be a bit strange just getting that photo, and not one with Aaron in it, so Aaron, Hannah and I came back the next day.  She was still scared of Santa, but we managed to get a photo.  She even gave Santa a high five at the end.  High five: Ok.  Sitting on lap: totally not ok.  Fair enough. Maybe next year she will sit on the fake bearded, red sporting, fat strangers lap.  I can only hope.