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We have a very sweet picture of Little Miss A at 6 months old, sitting on Santa’s knee.

A year later we go to see Santa again. The Captain and I are both in the picture – the rictus grins and way too casual clothes are a clear give away that we weren’t expecting to be in the shot – and Little Miss A has a slight look of panic on her face, arms stretched out and I’m pretty sure on the verge of tears. But we were pleased to have picture of her us with Santa to give to her grandparents.

When Little Miss A was 2.5 years old, we went to see Santa again. We made two attempts to get our annual Christmas picture, each time we rolled up to Santa, Little Miss A started to scream. And then cry. What can I say, I am a glutton for punishment. The picture we did finally get has Little Miss A sitting in her buggy armour, one meter away from Santa’s lap and just barely in the picture frame; not exactly smiling but not crying, clutching the stuffed reindeer and snacks that come with the sitting. Result (okay, almost).

This year I could not bear another visit to Santa’s grotto visit and didn’t bother to book, so imagine my surprise when she asks to see Santa at a local Christmas Fair. I must have asked, “Are you sure?! about a hundred times while we patiently waited in a very slow moving queue (some kids must have been talking Santa’s ear off with their lists!). We finally make it to the front:

A: “Mummy, I want to go”.

Me: “Go? Go where? The loo?”.

A: “Anywhere!!!!!!”.

Seriously?!! Deep breath. Better luck next year.

Me & Little Miss A

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