Santa is all over the place

I'm convinced I met the "real" Santa Claus in my local grocery store this week.

Since my son's first Christmas in 2009, each one gets successively more fun. At this age, we're having a blast singing Christmas carols and looking for Christmas lights in the car each evening and talking about what Santa will bring.

But one area where I have failed as a mother is taking my son to get a picture with the big guy himself.

On his first Christmas, he was a newborn, I was on maternity leave and I was still taking a million photos of my new baby on my own. The thought never really occurred to me to hand him over to a stranger and let someone else snap away.

The next year, my son was just old enough to recognize a jolly, oddly dressed, bearded stranger, and I didn't dream of forcing him to sit on one's lap. I did happen upon a really great-looking Santa at a holiday craft fair though, so I stood in line with my son.

Sure enough, when I started to hand the little guy over, he clung to me like a monkey. I tried to explain things to Santa so he didn't have hard feelings, and the lady behind us kindly offered to take a picture of me with Santa, while I still held my scared, frowning child. She used my cell phone, and the picture turned out terrible.

Alas, as my son's third Christmas approaches it is still the only photo I have with both him and Santa in it.

As desperate as stores and restaurants are for customers, it seems like everyone is offering time with Santa at their places of business, from fast-food chains and apple orchards to the standard pancake breakfasts, malls and parades.

This year we've run into Santa at the hardware store, at Clearbrook Park's "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" and a few other places.

Each time, we've pointed him out to our son, who made it clear he really was not interested (or, let's face it, more like terrified) at the prospect of being formally introduced.

This happened on our last grocery trip, as well. When we walked into the produce section, there he was in the little adjoining cafe, a holly boutonniere affixed to his aged, crimson coat and real, long white whiskers on his chin.

When we started to walk toward him, my son actually allowed it, but about the time we started to get within earshot, he started getting clingy.

We stopped at the entrance to the cafe and, to my surprise, Santa actually started to approach us. Even though he didn't manage to make my son comfortable enough for a photo opp, he managed to engage him in a conversation and get my son to accept a candy cane.

As we continued on with our shopping, I got candy-cane slobber all over my shirt and we bumped into Santa a few more times as he patrolled the aisles, each time, warming up my son to him a little more.

Unfortunately, I still didn't get a picture, but the fact that Santa took the time to make my son not so scared makes me convinced he was for real.

I'd love to say, thanks, Santa. You really made our day. But he'll never get the message.

Or will he?

• Contact Jessica Wiant at jwiant@nvdaily.com