Ho. Ho. Ho. Round 2.

Seeing as Young Old's previous experience with Christmas consisted mainly of being stuffed in a giant sock, we thought we'd give it a proper go this time around. As you can see in the following images, he met the barrage of symbols, lights, and gifts with almost a detached boredom, as if he were saying, "This is OK, but next time I think I'd rather just skip the big to-do, lay low, run around naked, and drink bottled beverages." Yep, he's taking after his father already.

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Neither Mama K or myself had ever done the whole Macy's WinterwonderlandsitonSanta'slap-thing. We'd heard from other parents that it is THE Christmas event. They practically prepare for it year-round...and almost had us convinced, too. We arrived, bathed in all the intricate light displays, and cued up to get some one-on-one time with Santa (I needed to let the Big Guy know to put a laptop on my list). Then we got to talking with the other folks in line; apparently, the wait can take up to five hours (FIVE!), and the photos cost, at minimum, the same amount as a kidney replacement. Um, fuck you, Santa. Young Old looked frightened anyway, so we bounced. Don't think this shall become part of the tradition going forth...

Our cute little tree. Don't mind the naked gnome blocking your view.

Thanks for the milk and cookies, bud. The orange was a nice treat, performing double duty in preventing scurvy during the long journey, and helping to trigger diabetic attacks. I love those. The note needs work, though, pal. -Santa [Click on the image to get a bigger, more readable image, if interested. -Ed.]

That "Ho, ho, ho" is pretty terrifying, kid. I probably shouldn't have let him watch Silent Night, Deadly Night.


This book wasn't nearly as good as I remember.


Away in the manger. [One of my favorite photos of the two of us. Thanks, Renze, for gifting this to Young Old. -Ed.]

Props to Santa for being ecologically-minded with the recycled plastic, BPA-free place settings, though I'm sure it was mandated by some agency to offset the methane output of your reindeer squad. Thanks, anyway; he loves them.


"I think I'm getting the hang of this. Here, let me open all of your gifts, too, Mom."

The three Magi (Auntie Ren, Uncle Train and Grandma Alaska) arrived to shower The Boy with gifts. He wasn't too sure what to make of all that frankincense and myrrh, but thought it best to deposit the gold in a college savings account.

Okay, okay, okay. So maybe he did have a good time. Cleaning up, that is. We've trained him well.