First Visit with Santa

Took the baby to see Santa this afternoon — the first time. We put the little one in the white knit sweater with the green sash, which held up better than expected against a full lap of red velvet and about a yard of beard.

No crying, which I'd braced for. Mostly staring. Santa did his best, pointed at the sash, leaned in for a chat, and got back a long solemn look and one fist gripping his sleeve. There was a Santabear propped by the tree that got about as much attention as the man himself. Toward the end the baby warmed up enough to almost smile, which felt like a win.

Afterward there was a grand piano in the next room and that was the real event of the day as far as the baby was concerned. Kneeling on the bench, both hands flat on the keys, grinning back at us between bangs. We let it go on longer than we probably should have. Somebody's hymnal was still open on the stand.