We started a couple of days ago, knowing that we wanted the weekend to include The Trip.  Parents know The Trip, because it plagues all of our holidays.  Sure, your holiday card is going to include some precious posed shots of autumnal y’all, but you still have to get the ONE pic of your kid(s) with Santa.  Otherwise known as The Trip.

Tony went and saw Santa when he was a mere two/three weeks old, and he handled the entire shoot like a pro:

See?  GREAT picture there.  Santa was happy, we were happy, everyone was happy.  CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.

Last year was HELLISH in the First Birthday party and then we had, I dunno, other shit to do and we totally missed The Trip.  Which we were okay with, because we only had EIGHTY MILLION PICTURES of the child at that point.

So this year was our first venture back.  And we started early with the propaganda.

We started pointing out pictures of Santa first.  We taught Tony what Santa says, which was always repeated as, “Hooo Hoh Hoooo”, as if he was some WereSanta or something.  I don’t know; the child is a genius in his own mind.  We talked about it for DAYS, going to visit Santa Clause.  We practiced what we were going to ask for (“bakketbawl?”) and all of that crap.  Dude, we had this NAILED.

We went to the mall midday on a Sunday, knowing the crowds would be light.  Tony’s face LIT UP when we saw him, seated there in his plush purple wingback.  “Oooooh!” he said.  That’s Santa, I told him.  He brings you stuff. “DANTA!!” he squealed.

We waited in line about ten minutes, which?  No big whoop.  Tony watched, bright-eyed and smiling as the children in front of us took their perfect pictures.  He kept pulling to enter the sacred Santa area.  “Not our turn yet, bud,” I’d warn.  “Just a minute.”

“MENOWT.” he said, impatient.  Christmas is COMING, Mom.

“What does Santa say?” I said, trying to pass the time.

“Hooo hoh hooooo,” he’d answer.

Finally, the other children cleared the path.  Santa smiled his jolly smile at Tony and said, “Hey.”

AND TONY WENT APESHIT.

This?  Was the BEST SHOT.  We literally had to throw Tony into the frame from a good two feet in front of the SATANIC SANTA and pray that maybe he wasn’t yowling that very second.  It was an .. experience.  It was .. The Trip.

Later tonight, when we were loading up from grocery shopping, I asked Tony if he’d gone to see Santa Clause today.  His eyes got wide as he nodded.  “.. yeeaaah..”

“And what did he say?” I asked.

He leaned in really close to me and said, “RAWR.”

Well, I’d have gone apeshit too.