My first instinct was to skip the photos with Santa this year altogether. Why, you ask? Well, for many reasons. a) The line is always way too long. b) The photos are always way too expensive. c) Did I really want to hand my nine month old infant son over to a stranger and trust him simply because he’s donning a red velvet suit? I mean, who is that guy behind the white beard, anyway? It was settled. Not happening.
A few days ago, a friend sent over shots of her one year old daughter Liat with Santa. So cute. I mean like, super cute. I have to say, too, that I particularly liked the first shot in which she was crying. Now, let’s be clear. I do not wish any child ill will, but the hilarity of kids crying on mall Santa’s laps is too funny to stifle my giggling, plain and simple. As I laughed, I started to reconsider my position. Then another friend shared photos of his one year old identical twin daughters with Santa, both their little faces peering up at the oddly dressed man upon whose lap they were perched. It was almost too much to bear, the cuteness of it. I decided that should the line to see Santa be somewhat reasonable the next time I went shopping, I would consider queuing up with Rhys.
And so, my friends, it happened that today was indeed that day. At the Grove this afternoon, after all the to-dos were crossed off my list, I strolled Rhys down towards Santa’s workshop to investigate the length of the line. Much to my surprise, it was rather short, so we queued up. While we waited, I studied the pricing list and firmly decided I would buy one 5×7 photo for the ridiculous price of $15 and be on my way. I fancy myself impervious to the persistence of up-selling. I’d show them. “No, thank you. This will be fine.”
Are you laughing at me yet? You should be. Ah, my naïveté. I’m their easiest target. A new mom, baby’s first Christmas? I mean, come on. Who did I think I was kidding? I am almost embarrassed how it all transpired, but seriously, you can’t put a price on memories. And, no, they didn’t tell me that. I told myself that to ease my pain. I’m just not sure if it’s working. I’ll tell you, however, the people working with Santa are cutthroat little sales-elves. Imagine the scenario: Enter Santa’s workshop. Deposit baby on Santa’s lap. Snap photos. Collect baby. Move to checkout area, where there is a video playing of our visit already. …entering with the stroller, passing Rhys to Santa… The entire exchange. While this plays, four snapshots are shown to me on the computer screen. Rhys smiling for 3 out of the 4 photos snapped. The non-smiling photo is Rhys looking up at Santa while Santa looks down at him. It was precious. It looked posed. I was screwed. Yes, I want the USB stick of all the photos. And yes, for $10 more I’ll take the DVD. I could hear myself speaking these words, while the rational me screamed inside my head. NO! You’re falling for it!!! Stick to the plan!
Ugh. They got me. They totally got me. It’s cool though, ’cause I got these.