a couple of weeks ago i got the boys all gussied up for a date with the big man himself... santa claus. & as the story goes, "he was dressed all in fun, from his head to his foot, & his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; a bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. his eyes - how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! his droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; he had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly. he was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf". unfortunately, that's where our story takes a turn - instead of laughing when owen saw him, he cried, & cried hard.
we tried all the tricks... everything from watching santa interact with other kids, to me trying to sit with owen & that jolly happy soul. but nothing worked, little o just wasn't having any of it. but, at least gavin was thrilled to read santa his christmas list.
later that afternoon i found owen asleep on the floor. i guess you could say he was tuckered out... being terrified of santa must have exhausted him. the funny thing is, now, every time & everywhere he sees santa, he gets all excited. even if the pictures this year didn't exactly work out, we do have proof that owen hasn't always been so scared...
images courtesy of ana brandt photography