Well, Christmas has passed. We struggled through the orange alert and got ourselves, our gifts, our car seat, and everything else to Atlanta to celebrate Reid's first Christmas. As you can see in this preview of a larger selection of Christmas pictures yet to come, young master Reid was in fine form, mugging for the camera and digging into a cute little toy that made strange noises and appeared to be a ladybug with a set of oversized keys dangling from her mouth.

Travelling with the baby is exactly what everyone imagines it must be like. When we boarded in Washington, we were lined up by the Airtran people at the front of the waiting area by the gate entrance, and our presence there along with about a half-dozen other kids and families, served as a chilling warning to those awaiting to join us in the place. Mercifully, Reid slept most of the way and the other children were surprisingly accomodating, largely allowing the trip to pass in peace.

Reid's gift bounty was granted him largely without comprehension, but he did help tear into packages and had a nice time testing the boundaries of our willingness to let him eat on paper and whatnot. (Note to pediatricians, etc: No actual paper was ingested. Just drooled on, gummed and then removed.) In this picture, he is helping me remove the wrapping from a snappy quartet of sleepers his mom bought him. Later, he wore one of the sleepers, having no idea that Santa brought it, or that it was different from anything else he has ever worn. He's 6 months old.

Okay, like I said, more pictures of Christmas in Atlanta, and then a followup batch of pictures from the pending arrival of my family to celebrate our week-deferred Christmas, are all forthcoming. Enjoy.

K and I met another person with a little baby and headed out to the mall for a visit to Santa Claus. I don't really have solid memories myself of visiting Santa. Maybe that's why malls and I got off on such the wrong foot. It seemed like a lot of chaos, more trouble, really than it was worth. (My view of the commerce-side of the holiday season is nowhere near as jaundiced as, say David Sedaris', but he's still an inspiration.)

So we packed the young man out into the big red car and headed out to a low-rent mall that, because of it's second-tier status, featured generous Santa visitation hours. Our gamble at the low-end house of stores paid off because there was no line, and the Santa was in good spirits (perhaps aided by the ingestion of some good spirits). Our friend's four year old, for whom seeing Santa was a moral imperative, was shocked in the moment, as so many young people are, and grinned but could say nearly nothing: Mother: Tell Santa what you want for Christmas. Child: (Speechless). Mom: Don't you want a Barbie? Child: (Speechless, but beaming.) Mom: (Camera clicking.) She wants a Barbie.

We went along with the thing, and placed Reid on the knee of ol' Kris Kringle himself. The Jolly Old Elf smiled broadly, through an authentic beard and the little round glasses which are a nice touch, and Reid sat stonefaced staring into the distance like he had pressing business elsewhere. The pictures are riotous, because it appears as if we took a vivid image of Santa and airbrushed Reid looking stoned onto his knee. Perhaps later, but not now, I will feature them here. However, in place of that bizarre image, I extend this little smiling Reid, in a Santa hat, waving at the camera, though he doesn't know what a wave is. This is one of the hundreds of photos we took during a multi-phase session of photography aimed at securing one picture for our Christmas cards. The one that many of you will receive was better than this one by a hundredth of a percent. This one is terribly cute, and the smile on our little boy's face could melt diamonds. Merry Christmas.

The holidays are ripping along. When you're that perfect age for enjoying the holidays, seven or nine, I guess, the month of December drags along like ice-cold molasses. The final fifteen days of school feel interminable, with three o'clock only coming after hours of torture. (As an adult, I have learned, because Reid's grandparents are teachers, that the instructors feel the same way.) Thanksgiving is massive feast, but it is always oddly lacking one major holiday element: gifts. So it becomes a filling but loot-free preview of the major holiday mama, Christmas. And certainly, once the big day comes, and the gifts are opened, the wrapping paper disposed of (after several days, mind you), and at least one major toy irreparably damaged by urgent use, the holiday season suddenly draws to a painful close.

Looking back over a nine-year old shoulder on the precipice of January 3rd or 5th or whenever we returned to school, I remember lamenting how little time I really had off over the holidays. That two and a half weeks had rocketed by, and here I was, waiting for the bus again.

Well, now the tables are turned. The molasses pace of December from my childhood has been utterly tossed from memory, as I look at a desk calendar to be shocked -- shocked!-- that it is midway through December. That I've bought a mere fraction of the gifts I need to buy and I've got less than ten days! TEN DAYS! The last time I really recall noting the date was November 29th or something, and here it is Christmastime in Washington. Stunned, I am.

Reid, meanwhile, lives his life with vigor but no realization of the chaos, wonder and free stuff he will be taking advantage of soon. Grandparents are lining up to hold, reward and (hopefully) change the diaper of the family's little prince. K and I are bucking for some time off this holiday season. Maybe a night on the town, baby-free. Maybe just a night when we sleep for more than four hours at a clip. Please.

New pictures of Reid from Halloween and Thankgiving are up. There is a whole bunch of chattiness surrounding the pictures, and something I think I should save the witty repartee for the blog, but the pictures are just crying out for creative narration. So enjoy them.