I Lied to Santa

After feeding Lana one morning last week, she burst into conversation and hasn’t quieted down since. She now engages the television, her toys, the crib mobile, and her family in deep and meaningful discussions that escalate in volume as she struggles to make her point. She will occasionally pause to study me in mid-conversation, and the look on her face says, “Damn, woman. I just told you to ooop, ahhh, guuhhh, RAHHH! Why are you still just sitting there?”

She also spent the past week studying the faces of those around her, and bursting into tears if those faces didn’t belong to a select few that she’s grown comfortable with. I actually found myself advising visitors to treat her like a wild animal and avoid making eye contact, for the safety of us all.

That brings me to Santa. Considering that the smiling faces of friends and family sent her into a fit all week, I had very low expectations for a photo with a big, bearded stranger. I warned Santa and his elves when we arrived that we would have about 10 seconds after dropping Lana in his lap before she would recognize the severity of the situation and earn herself a spot on the naughty list. Instead, I watched with total amazement as she sat calmly on Santa’s lap while his silly, silly elves attempted to cajole her into looking at the camera. She was completely relaxed, and I am still amazed that she could pull one over on Santa at such an early age.