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It’s that time of year, again. When the air is frosty and the 

lights are twinkling. When the bells are jingling and the cash registers are chiming.  Yes, it’s time for the holidays, which means several things are supposed to happen; Heather turns on the Christmas music EVERY day, I get to play the role of the Grinch and Finley gets to sit on Santa’s lap. Wait a second. Finley’s never been on Santa’s lap before. This could be interesting.

As we all know, beginning Thanksgiving Day, there are several opportunities and locations for you to shell out several dollars to get to put your kid on the lap of a dude in red pajamas. And yes, I’m still talking about Santa. Every department store or shopping mall has their designated Claus and his band of merry little elves with their picture package plan. But before you can decide on which size prints to send to the grandparents, you have to get the kid on the lap.

In my one short stint as a Santa at a restaurant I worked at in my younger days, I got to see first hand the terror that crosses the faces of most kids under five. I think at that age, there are a couple of things that are going on that wreak havoc in the mind of the child. The first is that it’s probably not their idea to do this. Most of the time, mom and dad have dressed them up and convinced them to get a picture with this strange man without asking them their opinion on the matter. Which leads to the second thing going on; Santa is pretty scary for a kid that small.

I would think it’s much like going to Disneyland when you’re less than five years old. You see these fun little cartoon characters on TV that are no bigger than your hand. Suddenly, you’re face to face with a five-foot tall mouse who doesn’t talk and his pet dog, Pluto, who’s even taller and walking upright the whole time. I expect it’s the same with Santa. He’s fine and dandy and safe when he’s an ornament or trapped inside the TV, talking to Rudolph and that elf that wants to be a dentist. But when he’s flesh and blood and mom and dad drop you on his lap, and then run away for a picture, it can’t be a whole lot of fun.

Which brings us to Finley’s first visit to Santa’s workshop this past weekend. I was of course, expecting cries of terror once she was plopped on the old man’s knee. Luckily, we had a few things going on, distraction-wise that helped us out a bit.

First of all, we had to drive a ways to the party. This was a kids’ party put together by my company at a great children’s museum about 30 miles from where we live. So, by the time we got there, she was ready to get out of the car and discover something new. This museum was the perfect place. Lots of space and things to play with, crawl on and slide down. There were tree houses to explore, buses, planes and trains to climb on and even some water to splash. So after we let her let go of some energy we swept her up and got her to Santa. Before she could let out a peep, the picture was done and we were off to another room to build a stuffed Christmas Moose. She was in sensory overload.

At any rate, I was prepared for the worst and my little girl not only surprised me, but impressed me a bit. I think she’s beginning to get the hang of cameras and figuring out that it’s much easier to flash that little smile and move on than it is to struggle and take shot after shot.

To be honest, I was a little disappointed that there wasn’t a bit of a fuss with St. Nick. I kind of wanted to see the guy work a little harder. But then again, I’ve been on the receiving end when Finley doesn’t want me to put her shoes on. Trying to hold on to a squirming toddler is like trying to catch a greased pig. There’s no real reason you should be doing either.

So, we’ll chalk this one up as a successful mission and wait to see what happens next year. Maybe we won’t let her nap before we go for the picture. Let’s see how Santa deals with that. It might just be worth the coal I’ll get in my stocking!