I have been off my computer for five days so you’ll have to forgive me if I am still talking about Christmas when the rest of the internet has moved onto “Best of 2014” lists.

I’m not there yet!

I actually wasn’t planning to be offline this whole time (I had so many ideas for things to post!), but once we left New York, I just didn’t feel like opening my computer. So there was no formal announcement. No— “I’ll be offline for Christmas!” Or— “I’m going on a technology detox!” Or any of those other things you hear bloggers say for the holidays.

Just a spontaneous choice to gift my family with my full attention.

So now, I here I am still writing about our visit to Santa on Decemeber 29th. But how could I not share the photo gem above???

There are certain photos every mom tries to capture. The day she brings her baby home from the hospital, the first time her baby’s held by Grandma, the baby’s first steps, first birthday, etc. I’d like to add the first time her baby sits on Santa’s lap and screams like she’s being tortured by a terrorist to the list.

Harlow cried the second she realized I was backing away to snap the shot.

Did that stop me?


I wanted that crying Santa photo just as much as all the other milestones.

Harlow didn’t just cry either. She arched her back, put her hands up in the air and went stiff as a board. A classic maneuver that says, I’m not just gonna sit here all weepy and play victim— I AM GETTING OUT.

I tried to get Harlow to relax by sitting next to her in the photo.


That didn’t work either.

But I already had what I wanted so I picked Harlow up, let her whimper into my shoulder and snapped away as Mazzy had her tear-free moment with Santa alone.


Mazzy asked for a race car, because that’s what her dad said he wanted before he left for work.

“Tell Santa I want a race car for Christmas.”

It was a quick offhanded comment that made a lasting impression on Mazzy, who waited patiently in line at Macy’s for 45 minutes before delivering Santa her dad’s request.

NOTE: Did you know there are like twenty Santas at Macy’s??? That’s why they call it “Santaland”! They breed them in the stock room! I was wondering why the line was moving so fast until we got to the end and were led very quickly past a series of curtains and wooden structures until we were in our own private booth. Just us and Santa. Mmmmhmmm. I’d love to see an aerial shot of Macy’s “Santaland”. It would blow the whole Christmas magic thing in a such grand fashion, it would be incredible.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Santa #19 asked my daughter.

“A race car.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” I yelled from the other side of the camera.

“Yep. A race car.”

Then after the Santa sit-down was over, we were let out into a toy store area (of course) which had a mailbox to Santa in the middle. Writing a letter was probably unnecessary at that point since we had just spoken to Santa directly, but Mazzy wanted to write one just in case.

She asked for a race car in her letter too.


I wish I could say this was a completely selfless act in the name of her father, but then Mazzy spent the remainder of our time at Macy’s begging me for a Madame Alexander doll with long blonde hair, a pink furry coat and matching boots.

“Do you want to write Santa another letter telling him you changed your mind about the race car?”

“No! I don’t want the doll for Christmas! I want it now!”

Ah. Now I understand. Mazzy is not a big fan of delayed gratification. And it’s pretty hard to get a five-year-old to understand the significance of Christmas morning when a) she’s Jewish and b) she’s just spent the entire month of December receiving daily presents for her birthday and Hanukkah.

Is there a twelve step program for present addicts? Or maybe a holiday rehab facility that parents can send their kids for the month of January while they go through gift withdrawal?


When I posted Harlow and Mazzy’s Santa shot on the Mommy Shorts facebook page last week, I was inundated with photos of tortured kids also forced to partake in this strange gift-requesting protocol.

I’m going to end this post with 20 more photos of kids absolutely losing their shit on Santa’s lap, just because I couldn’t let them go to waste. Maybe they didn’t want to sit on a strange man’s lap at the mall (like Harlow) or maybe they hated the idea of waiting until Christmas morning for their race cars (like Mazzy).

In either case, not even Christmas magic could disguise the magnitude of their meltdowns.





















I know! Perhaps they had all just seen the imaginary aerial photo I took from the ceiling of Macy’s.