The Problem with Mall Santas

All three of my children despise mall Santas. We have $35 photos of all of them as little ones, struggling valiantly to escape their clutches, mouths wide open in blood curdling screams, snot and tears smeared across their red-purple faces.

And as they've gotten bigger, they aren't any more willing to pay these Santas a visit. And, you know, I really don't blame them. They smell bad, like a combination of the urine of other terrified children and sweat that forms from sitting in those suits under the glare of camera flashes all day. They are often in pissy moods, as I would be if I had to do that for eight hours straight. And they know that these figures are imposters, or rather "Santa's helpers" as we call them, because really, they're in EVERY mall. And truly, I'm happy that my three inherently feel uncomfortable sitting on a strange man's lap. They should!!

So we don't force the issue in our house. Now, they tolerate the Santa Claus at the annual Chrismas brunch at the Club...from a distance. But we do not require the mall trip, the wait in line and the forced smile.

I guess my photo albums will be less complete. That's o.k. But the real tragedy is that I'll never acquire a collection of supremely awesome photos like the ones above.