Ranta Clause or Santa Fraud

So we went to see Santa last week at the mall. Of course we built the whole experience up for the kids, letting them know that Santa would be very excited to see them, that he would be especially proud of Meg and her new found ability to consistently use the potty, and that he really wanted to know what they especially wanted to find under the tree.

Now, last year we went to see Santa at a mall that was closer to my parents' house and waited in the unending line and watched as my mom took illegal pictures of the kids as they sat on Santa's lap for the first time showing no fear of the bearded stranger. This year we decided to go to our local mall and find Santa there. This mall is a rather nice one, with fancy stores and fancy people with more disposable income than I am likely to have while college for Meg and Edward looms.

After finding Santa and his helper elves, we were pleasantly surprised to find virtually no line. The kid in front of us screamed as his parents approached the rather authentic looking bearded man. The set-up for Santa was like nearly all mall Santas with the picture packages, and the associated loan officer, available for your convenience. I went over and checked with one of Santa's helpers and she confirmed that the kids could sit with Santa with no photo purchasing obligation to be borne by the parental folks. As we waited briefly in line, it became clearly apparent that somehow mom and dad missed the boat as our kids were wearing their ordinary kid clothes (although Eddie had on a rather unattractive Grandma Secondhand Sweater) while the other kids in line had been dressed by their parents like Santa was somehow giving extra credit to the kids who looked good. But, again, we did not plan on taking pictures of the kids with Santa. We simply wanted them to have the opportunity to talk to the jolly old elf and feel like he had heard their requests.

As Meg approached Santa, he and the helper dude figured out where she should go so for the best photo taking options. Anne helped Meg out, but her silly turtleneck and squinty eyes in the pictures made her look like some kind of fallen starlet who really needed an intervention of some kind for Christmas. After several weak attempts at taking pictures (and with Anne I clearly not interested in a two 3X5, 1 5X7, plus bonus coffee mug package for the low low price of $174.99) eventually the photographer elf gave up and took a short break. Meanwhile, during this entire time Santa hadn't said a word to the kids. It was like he was some sort of dress-up character at the amusement park who was a giant mute caricature. Anne stood there with the kids gently asking them to tell the Santa what they wanted for Christmas. And then, just like that, it was time for us to go. We continued to try to talk it up as we walked away and headed back through the mall, but even the kids could probably see through the semi-fraud they'd just participated in.

I understand that the mall and even Santa himself should make some money off of parents' need to maintain the illusion of magic this time of year. Hey, if people want to spend $35 on 6 pictures of their kids to capture the fleeting magic of youth and belief in a man who gives gifts with nothing expected in return, then more power to them. But, for those of us who prefer to capture the magic in our hearts, or take a hundred pictures Christmas morning, then that should be OK too. I felt a little cheated that Santa, who wasn't exactly going anywhere anyway, couldn't have opened his mouth to talk to and ears to listen to my two little disheveled children so that they could sleep at night for the next few weeks dreaming that somehow maybe their wishes would come true.

Me so fascinating

And this is why I never had a diary. I would spend just as much time reading my always insightful, generally amusing scribbles than I would actually writing. Not that I recommend naval gazing to most folks, but I have a habit of doing that. It is a problem. I write an e-mail, then I reread it once or twice, and then I feel that I need to reread it again at least once or twice after I have sent it. What the frick!? I just need to find more important things to occupy my time. Clearly.

Lots has happened lately. Thanksgiving was OK. Not as good had my wife and I actually were allowed to take the lead on cooking the feast, but no one got hurt and the little cousins were able to hang out and have fun.

I took a trip to the Big Apple for a boondoggle of training for work. The training and my accomodations were subpar but the ability to see old friends made it all worth it. I got a chance to see an old roommate who has lived in NYC for several years (well since we were roommates) and she was gracious enough to take me to two wonder restaurants. Mmmm food. I also met up with an old (girl)friend from what seems like a previous life. What I found amazing though is that we were able to chat and talk and discuss issues as easily today as we did 15 years ago (which is near as we can tell the last time we actually saw one another). But then again, I could probably talk with a door knob and keep up the conversation for 30 minutes or so, as long as I was able to talk about my wife and kids...

Finally, I just returned from a trip to Charleston SC which has been my favorite place to travel on this particular contract I have been on for the past 2 years. They have The Best Food there and I am almost never disappointed. Several recommendations that you should stop and visit if you are ever in the neighborhood: The Boathouse (either in Mt Pleasant or downtown), Vickory's (on Shem Creek), 82 Queen, and finally Water's Edge. I cannot wait until I can take Anne down there and we can share meals together there.