Ever since the day of his birth, I have always noticed how many of my own behaviors and mannerisms my son inherited. I guess the initial fear of Old Saint Nick has been passed down as well.
My fiance was overly excited to take our son to the mall, so she could get some holiday pictures of him with Santa Claus. She is the type of person that really does have a photograph to celebrate all of life’s tender moments.
I attempted to explain to her that our child, like most 2 year olds, is extremely unpredictable. He may want to meet Santa Claus, or he could possibly go for the guy’s beard.
My mother still laughs, whenever she talks about my first time on the fat man’s knee; apparently I, “acted like a fool”, and I envisioned my son having a similar experience.
The day arrived, and after an exhausting hour long wait in line, it was my son’s turn, but he was having none of it.
My fiance was persistent, and against my wishes, forced our baby into the arms of a stranger, and now he has his own story to live with.
He screamed, and yelled, and kicked, then pulled Santa’s real beard. Santa Claus was not happy and neither was I, but when I think about it now I have to admit that it was quite funny to see.