Saturday I tried to get Cora’s picture taken with Santa. After her nap and a bath, I primped her hair and dressed in a beautiful green velvet dress. She looked adorable and she was happy. Doesn’t get much better than that in baby picture-taking land. I had scoped out a mall that doesn’t get much business lately, which also means that its Santa line was nearly non-existent, even on the last Saturday before Christmas.

Got to the mall, easily found a parking spot, and headed towards Santa. So far, so good- Cora’s interested, even curious, as we approach Santa’s area. There’s no line to speak of. . . only a few kids wandering up to give Santa their wish list. Cora and I step up. My plan was this: either hand her to Santa or, if that doesn’t look like it’ll work, sit with Santa too and get a Mommy and Cora picture done. Seeing as I hate getting my picture taken, this counts as one of those sacrifices you make for your kids that they don’t appreciate at the time, or possibly ever.

That sacrifice turned out to not be necessary. While Cora was interested in Santa and his workshop, my little girl turned into Worf (a Klingon from Star Trek Next Generation: as in, she “clings on” to my shoulder) and would have nothing to do with looking anywhere but at the fibers of my sweater. So, instead of a beautiful picture of Cora with Santa, we’ll have to make do with this one. . . [that’s probably how she viewed Santa, anyway … ]