Waiting to see Santa

Every year, I've taken A to have his picture taken with Santa. It looked like that wasn't going to happen this year, and that bugged me. Part of me wanted to say screw it, and part of me didn't like the fact that the family mythology would be: A got a picture every year except the year that L was born.

It bugged me enough that I made C take all of us to the mall two days before Christmas when malls are verboten around here so we wait for hours (almost) to get A's picture taken with Santa. It was worth it for the following conversation between A and Santa:
Santa: Have you thought about what you would like for Christmas?
[A nods.]
Santa: What would you like for Christmas?
A: Presents.
Santa: Presents?
A: Yes. Presents.
Santa: Oh. [pause] So you like surprises.

I know someday A might have a Christmas list a mile long with names, prices, part numbers, and specifications for whatever he wants, but I'm so pleased to have a little boy who just wants some presents and the hell with wanting something more specific than that.

We did not get L's picture taken with Santa, because the thought of all those little children touching Santa and then L touching Santa was enough to put us off before we got there and saw Santa blowing his nose between kiddos. Sick Santas don't get to hold newborns, although Santa would have been thrilled to do it. He said the youngest he's ever held for a photo is four days. Too crazy for me. I don't know who's peed on Santa.

Edited to add: C pointed out to me that after they had the present conversation, A said, "What do you want for Christmas, Santa?" Santa wants cookies and milk. But what a sweetie to ask.