I thought this would be the year for my toddler’s weepy Santa photo, but Oliver surprised us – just as he has for much of his two-and-a-half years.

Oliver was just five months old when we took him to see Santa for the first time. I dressed him in a pair of smart plaid pants – he may not agree when he’s a teenager – and we drove through the snow to a downtown Toronto shopping mall. We were at the front of the line when Santa returned from his mid-afternoon milk and cookie break.

Oliver, unlike his four-month-old brother Henry, was not a smiley baby. Easy going, yes. Outwardly cheery, not so much. So when we perched Oliver on Santa’s knee, he gave his best serious expression. There were no tears or fussing as he gazed up at the white bearded stranger. No bright smiles either. Just a very sombre look. Two years later, the photo still cracks me up.

Last December, Oliver and I drove to the same downtown mall for a reunion with Santa. But we found only busy stores and harried holiday shoppers. There was no Santa’s castle, no jolly old St. Nick in a red suit. Perhaps Santa’s schedule was too busy last year to fit in a mall stop. So instead of marking a Christmas tradition, we joined the crush of holiday shoppers before stopping for a latte. It was a lovely afternoon, but it left a gap in our photo album.

This year, we didn’t need to plan a trip to an overcrowded mall. Oliver’s nursery school organized a pancake breakfast complete with photos with Santa. I was prepared for Oliver to greet Santa with tears, or worse, a tantrum. On the other hand, I was also thrilled at the prospect of the first Santa photo with my two boys.

I was wrong on both counts.

Instead of clinging to my legs or demanding to be carried by his father, Oliver walked into Santa’s room like he owned it. He cruised over to Santa and, with very little coaxing, he gave St. Nick’s gloved hand a high-five. Oliver wasn’t keen to sit beside Santa, but he was happy to pose with me and his pre-school teacher, even giving the photographer a sweet smile. He left the room just as he breezed into it, giving Santa another high-five and happily saying thank you and good bye.

While Oliver’s picture with Santa was a success, we’ll have to wait until next year to introduce Henry to the gift-bearing man from the North Pole. Henry fell asleep in the stroller during the five-minute walk to the nursery school and he did not stir. I did assure Santa that Henry had been a very good boy this year, particularly since he started sleeping through the night. (One friend handed her snoozing baby to Santa, who pretended to be asleep. The portrait of a slumbering Santa and baby is definitely one for the album.)

In the weeks leading up to this year’s pancake breakfast, we told Oliver stories about Santa and read Christmas-themed books before tucking him into bed. While Oliver repeated Santa’s name and seemed to enjoy the stories, I’m not sure whether he truly understands Christmas or the legend of St. Nick. For now, Christmas traditions, including visits with Santa, are for my enjoyment.

But there will come a day soon when Oliver, his little brother following closely behind, will drag us to the local shopping centre every December to whisper his Christmas wishes in Santa’s ear.

-- Sarah Green

   sarahg@babyontheway.ca