Did The Baby Jesus Grow Up To Be Santa Claus???

Today we took Madeline to The North Pole (A.K.A. the mall) to see Santa Claus!  I love Santa almost as much as I love the Baby Jesus.  Seriously, I was so excited to bring Madeline to see Santa that I felt it necessary to invite my parents to witness the grand event.  (They busied themselves by taking pictures of us visiting with Santa from the upper level of the mall.) 

Sadly, we arrived at Santa's styrofoam palace just in time to see them close the gates.  It was like the scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy finally reaches The Emerald City only to have the door slammed in her face by the guard with the weird hair and unfortunate eyebrows.  Luckily, we were informed that Santa would be back in thirty minutes.  

First in line...naturally.

While we waited, Eric and I theorized about what Santa does on his break.  Was he drinking a cup of vodka coffee?  Was he "visiting" with Mrs. Claus?  Was he calling the North Pole to make sure the elves were doing their work?  Does he have a nanny cam on the elves?  (By the way, we were wondering, are the elves Santa's slaves?  Or are there elf unions?) Was he visiting all the other malls in the world in that thirty minutes just like he can visit every child in the world in just one night?  We'll never know.  

Finally, our wondering was put to an end when the man himself could be heard coming down the hall complete with mall-cop escort.  (Paul Blart, Mall Cop was filmed at this particular mall...we're, like, basically famous.)  Santa came down the escalator ringing sleigh bells, waving to the children, and "Ho-Ho-Ho"-ing.  I felt like I was witnessing the arrival of Paul McCartney.  I was so excited to see him that I found myself yelling, "Hoo-ray! Santa's here! Hi, Santa!"  My arm was stretched way up above my head waving enthusiastically when I looked around and realized I was the only person who seemed to be excited to see Santa.  Not even the children in line seemed that excited to see Santa.  My hand froze, mid nerdy wave, and I quickly pretended that I was only trying to fix my hair.   

Hoo-ray! It's Santa, and he has my baby!

Which led me to realize that seeing Santa at the mall has become an exercise strictly for the parents.  The kids didn't seem to care about Santa that much.  Why should they?  They probably see him at every mall, Walmart, and liquor store twenty times between Halloween and Christmas. Still, there the children were, dressed in their matching holiday outfits, hair perfectly combed, ready to smile prettily for the camera all so mum and dad could shell out thirty bucks for a few precious pictures to put on the fireplace mantle on Christmas Day.  

Speaking of weird hair and unfortunate eyebrows...(And I don't mean Maddie.)

Madeline certainly didn't care about seeing Santa.  She was more interested in the twinkly lights surrounding her than the strange bearded fellow holding her.  At least she didn't cry.  Her mumma, on the other hand, was obviously very excited.  I can't wait to go back next year!  And if Madeline ever has a little brother or sister, I will dress them in matching outfits...complete with patent leather shoes.  

What a good girl!