Enzo's Christmas Photo Shoot

It's probably been 25 years since I've been inside the magical wonderland that is the mall's get-an-overpriced-photo-with-Santa's Workshop. I planned the entire morning around timing Enzo's feeding with an anticipated hour standing in line, waiting to sit on Santa's lap. So, we head to the Brea Mall (all spiffed up in his cool-guy acid wash cargo jeans and his Ralph Lauren dress shirt), trying desperately not to have him spew on his clothes. We get to the designated area and walk into the area marked "Santa's Wonderland". We walked around a corner, not being able to see what awaited us. There we found a red velvet rope with a sign that said "no personal photography." A stoner-looking kid/elf half-heartedly pulled back the rope and there he was. In the flesh. SANTA. Sitting all alone with not a kid in sight. We were his only visitors.

I barely had enough space for my staging area. I was so nervous!! Pulling Enzo out of his stroller, making sure his hair wasn't jacked, pulling off his anti-spew bib, pulling on his "It's my first Christmas" socks that he had pulled off on the way there. After introductory niceties, I carefully set Enzo on Santa's lap, praying we could get a good shot. I started making all kinds of googly faces and noises and, of course, Enzo grins. Snap. Are you serious? My child didn't scream on Santa's lap??

Santa asked what he wanted for Christmas and asked me if he had been a good boy. I told Santa that I'm sure he already knows what a good boy he has been - because Santa knows everything - and that he's already gotten everything he could want. I told Santa that the main thing Enzo was looking forward to about Christmas was the wrapping paper. Eating it and hearing it crinkle.

Enzo looked up at Santa with a look of amazement and wonder with his enormous brown eyes as he petted his REAL beard. I desperately look over to the stoner kid/elf begging for him to take a freaking picture, but he was popping a zit instead. Dammit. The moment passed. Never to be experienced again. I'll have to burn it into my memory. Then Enzo takes hold of Santa's beard and p u l l s. "Ouch" says Santa. I told Santa not to take it personally; Enzo does that to me, too. My head, not my beard.

So, for $26.95 I splurged on the CD of a picture on Santa's lap (instead of spending $24.95 for 8 wallets). Now, I get to make my own copies of however many I want.

Merry Christmas!!