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Sam and I were at the mall today, and I saw that Santa was on duty.

"Do you want to see Santa?" I asked.

Sam looked nonplussed, but I thought, what the hell, let's give it a try.

"Do you want a photo taken?" a scantily clad elf asked, when I wheeled the stroller into the Winter Wonderland (which was neither very wintery nor wonderful).

I laughed. "Yeah, right. He's not going to sit still long enough for that."

At which point the elf-slut actually rolled her eyes, as if to say, You can't control your child long enough to have his photo taken? I thought about kicking her in the shin, but decided to take the high road -- part of the whole parent-gig is that it's considered "bad" when your children see you kicking elves, trampy or otherwise -- and instead just unbuckled Sam from his stroller.

"Let's go see Santa!" I said enthusiastically, taking Sam's hand.

Sam looked at Santa, looked at me, and then sat down on the ground.

"Don't you want to see Santa?" I asked, trying to get him back on his feet. Sam hunkered down like a turtle.

I picked him up, and carried him over to where Santa was sitting.

"Hi, little boy!" Santa said.

A look of abject terror crossed Sam's face.

"What does Santa say?" Santa asked.

"Ho, ho, ho!" I said.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Santa said.

Sam leaped from my arms, sprinted away as fast as his fat little feet could carry him, and hid behind his stroller.

"Better not to push it," Santa said.

"Maybe next year," I agreed.

"Get me the hell out of here," Sam said. Okay, he didn't actually say that, but it was clearly a sentiment he was strongly in favor of.

Posted 02 December 2005 at 02:12 PM