|isn't that so sweet?|
He was jolly, waving from behind his white picket fencing, his tiny face peeking out from an enormous white curly beard. As we got closer the Littlest pointed out that he had no mouth, it being entirely concealed by the snowy beard. I think this fact made the Littlest even less trusting. 'Where is his mouth, Mommy?' Hmmmmm....
French Santa was kind and patient and knew just what to do to make the Littlest feel at ease. He even spoke a bit of English as he explained what I should do: touch his finger with mine ET style and encourage the Littlest to do the same, sit on the arm of his Big Chair and hold the Littlest on my lap, gently ease him closer to Santa and carefully leeeeaaaaan out to the side so I couldn't be seen in the photo.
And it worked. We got a few shots of the Littlest looking very skeptical as Santa smiled and waved and chuckled and all you can see of me is my stylish grey fingernails holding tightly and reassuringly to his tummy.
Next came Grand-mère's turn on Santa's Big Chair. She and her best friend have a little Santa photo tradition and so she was obliged to climb on up and wave and smile. The young woman taking the photos laughed and showed us an example photo of a French Grand-mere smiling happily from Santa's tiny lap. Did you see that? It was not a typo. I meant to write 'lap' and not 'Big Chair'.
|keep wavin' Santa, let me see those hands|
The look of surprise on my mother's face was priceless. I thought she was just embarrassed by being in the middle of a French shopping center while other Frenchies watched her sitting on tiny Santa's lap and getting her photo taken. Turns out her wide-eyed look was in response to the placement of Santa's white-gloved hands. Up, up and away went the right hand and scoochy, scoochy slide went the left. Oooolala Père Noël! Those rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes belonged to a frisky Papa Christmas!
Merry Christmas from the South of France, where even Santa is plein de verve.