It’s funny to watch the evolution of a kid’s reactions to Santa. The first one is usually utter terror. My first shots of Ashleigh with Santa showcase a bawling mass of quivering baby. By the second or third year, there is usually rapt fascination with this jolly, bearded legend. Then follows pure euphoria at the prospect of telling Santa what you want for Christmas. Children learn fast that Santa is their bread and butter when it comes to receiving gifts on Christmas morning. Then once a child learns the truth about Santa, they leave him in the dust, embarrassed to even be near him.
Some other time, I’ll display photos of Ashleigh bawling with Santa, Denise excited, and me trying to avoid him at any cost. But today, I’ll display this wonderful photo taken on December 5, 1949 of my Dad when he was two years old, staring at Santa so hard he’s about to burn a hole through him.
And here’s an interesting juxtaposition. More than 40 years later, here’s my Dad with his granddaughter Ashleigh in late 1990, this time on the receiving end of the staredown. If only she had done this well with Santa Claus…
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