When my son was 11 months old, I found myself standing in a long line at the mall with my sister and our babies, waiting our turn to set our sweet boys on Santa?s lap and snap the classic holiday picture. As we waited, I happily bounced and rocked my son, kissing his cheeks and whispering words of love in his ears. He seemed to enjoy the wait, too, as his eyes followed the sparkly lights and the toddlers and bigger kids running around the indoor winter wonderland. Together, we inched forward calmly and, after nearly an hour?s wait, it was finally our turn to step toward the man in the big red suit.
While I hadn?t visited Santa since I was a child myself, years of passing kids sitting on his lap at the mall and seeing adorable images of my friends? children smiling for the camera in picture-perfect Christmas outfits on Facebook and Instagram made me look forward to this moment. I wanted my own pictures to share and look back on. Because my son and my nephew are just a few weeks apart, my sister and I envisioned them growing up together through their annual Santa photos. There was a part of me that was there for the experience itself. But the other part of me?the one that wondered whether I was cut out to be a mother and was constantly self-conscious around other moms who seemed to be so much better at everything?was there for the picture. I wanted to prove that I was a good mother who created holiday traditions and ensured that my son?s childhood was magical. For some reaso...