This is me, pointing out the mother who needs to come and get me. Now.
A couple of years later, I am still reaching for my parents.
Here is little Billy, who (much later) became my husband.
I can't imagine why Sinister Santa is poking him in the stomach. Neither can he.
Ah, Uncle Ronny. You just know he is about to shriek.
Uncle Ronny again, with brother Billy along for courage.
He wants the gift, but the terror! The terror!
Billy and Ronny, older yet. Billy gets the game, Ronny still knows the fear.
Another generation: Dee loves Santa, you can tell
Third generation: Grandson Mason is pretty sure that Santa is there to steal his ears.
Even our dogs know that Santa is a scary guy.
Petey screams; Leny just begs with her eyes. Take me home!