Aaah, the holidays. Happy children, chestnuts, trimming the tree and hammy handed Santas. We haven’t subjected P to a visit with Santa yet. He’s been too scary to do anything more than wave from afar. I probably shouldn’t show her this picture if I’m hoping for more this year, eh? Jeez, I hope that the department stores hiring their Santa’s are a bit stricter now a days. They should post signs that say “No one is allowed to be Santa if their hands are freakishly larger than a small child’s head”. I’m not sure how my brother is feeling about the whole thing. Maybe he’s just fine tuning his bershon at age 8 or 9. I love the pants I’m wearing and the hat with the bow looks just so precious though I think I remember it being itchy.
A Very Peluso Christmas
This one was probably taken on Christmas Eve the same year as the photo above. We are at my Aunt Ann’s house. I can tell from the dark blue foil on the tree in the background. The blank look on my mom’s (gorgeous) face, the bored, mad look on my dad’s, more bershon from my brother and my deer in the headlights stare pretty much sums up our little family dynamic. Most adults try to put up more acceptable, public faces for these kinds of holiday family photos but I guess my parents just didn’t care. I don’t want to see fake smiles maybe just more of an effort. Sometimes when they’d fight my dad would try to apologize by telling me that they were only staying together for our sake. Wow thanks, that means that all that yelling and anger was all my fault.