And One Hour Later...

The kids finally got to see Santa. This is a big deal you see, because I do not have pictures of me with Santa. It is what my mother calls a "childhood scar" which is supposed to be related to my own children when they don't get everything that THEY want. "This will give you a hardship to tell your own kids!"

Aside from Letters to Santa and the Talking Tree that was outside the ZCMI, I didn't have any real contact with the famous Claus. I have corrected this in my own children's upbringing - and usually it's a fun experience. But this year, it happened rather late in the season. MAN! If you would like to commit suicide and not leave a trace, just try to stand in line to see Santa on the 23rd of December. You will get mowed over in a second and left for dead as a parade of strollers passes over your lifeless body.

After coaxing my kids into Sunday clothes, "But we wore these yeeeeesterdaaaaaay!" I hauled all of us to the University Mall for a quick pick with the Jolly Old Elf. Who was very Jolly dang busy today. Based on the Kiddie Kandid's bag that came with our VERY expensive pic, I figure that the store must make 75% of their profit from this little enterprise alone. Talk about your Cash Cow!

Of course, it is Utah, and in the spirit of "do with what you have, or do without" no one raised an eyebrow to the many who said, "No thanks, I'll just take my own picture," and smartly bypassed the professional photographer to snag a few photo ops with their own cameras. Lucky for us, one of the groups ahead of us had 7 children. That made the line move along at a much faster clip than the hoards of first time parents with immaculately dressed babies.

It was over in a second, and I was sorely tempted to ask Santa what kind of "product" and curling iron he uses to keep those side curls "just so", and whether his workshop ran out of working shoe elves or what kind of bargain he'd struck with Birkenstock. But I resisted, and now I have irrefutable proof that I was a good mom to my kids. I took you to see SANTA! In PROVO, during the HOLIDAYS! I don't know what kind of recompense you get for that... maybe extra holly on my grave, or a saintly entry in each of their journals. Who knows. But the pic is worth the thousand words that I am now entirely too tired to write. Merry Christmas!