You better not cry, you better not pout...

Four years ago, for Beth's first Christmas, we took a trip to the local mall to visit Santa. We went with my sister-in-law, Audrey, and my newborn nephew. We happily placed the two babies on Santa's lap, where they sat without complaint while their photograph was snapped. Audrey and I split the cost of the outrageously overpriced photo package, and I still have that picture in our album. The babies were so innocent and adorable. And thus began an annual tradition.

The event has become somewhat more complicated by the fact that we have each welcomed two more children over the last few years, so today we trotted up to Santa's chair with our six little angels, and watched Santa's face turn from jolly-and-happy to disbelieving-and-concerned.

"All six of them?", he asked.

The staff turned out to be quite patient and accomodating, while we desperately tried to find a way for Santa to hold onto six squirming children, two of whom had absolutely no desire to be part of this craziness. The two middle girls (3 years old and "almost 3 years old") plopped themselves front and center, one on each knee, and they refused to budge. Erin absolutely refused to be held by this large, strangely-dressed man, so the photographer provided me with a chair, which he placed right next to Santa. "Just sit way back, hold the baby up close to Santa, and we'll crop you out with the border", he told me.

Sounded good to me. Audrey precariously placed her littlest son onto Santa's lap, where he promptly started to cry. Then she stepped back and attempted to make all six children look at the camera at the same time, which was no easy feat. By the time we stepped down from the platform I think the grown-ups were exhausted, but the older children were enjoying themselves immensely.

We actually have a somewhat decent picture to show for our efforts this year. I am not quite as "cropped out" of the photo as I would have liked, but all the children are looking straight ahead, and only one child is crying this year. (We have one picture, from 2004, in which all four children look quite miserable).

After a potty accident by someone-who-will-remain-nameless, we headed off to celebrate with some pizza. We then collapsed into the van, where the younger two girls fell fast asleep on the way home, Amy clutching the coloring book that Santa had given her.

Beth was quiet for most of the ride home. As we turned off the highway and headed toward our house, she called up from her seat in the back of the van. "That sure was fun, Mommy. I'm going to keep that picture of us sitting on Santa's lap forever".

Me too, Beth.