On Saturday night, Santa stopped by our neighborhood for a little visit. We almost missed him! We were the last family to arrive, and Santa was about to hop the next sleigh to the North Pole, but he was sweet enough to stay a bit longer for a visit with our boys.
Here's my question: At what point does a visit with Santa move from traumatized terror to loving adoration? Kaden is now three. We have one decent picture of him with Santa. It was his second Christmas, and we did a quick lap drop at the mall. Every other year? Not so much. This year, though, takes the cake. Kris Kringle actually had to slide him a candy cane across the floor, because Kaden spent the entire visit cowering behind his Daddy's leg, screaming that he didn't want to see him or talk to him. (This after insisting that he wanted to go see Santa.) I'd envisioned a great shot with Kaden and Everett smiling on jolly, old St. Nicholas' lap. Instead, Santa's elf managed to capture this moment:
And we got these lovely shots of Everett, featuring a dazed "deer in the headlights" expression:
Luckily, our elf, Jingle Bell, showed up later that night, and Kaden told him everything he wants for Christmas, with the hope that the message will be relayed to Santa.
I can't believe that Christmas is just around the corner!!!