Why we do it

The boys wanted to see Santa. Being a good mother, and probably certifiably insane, I agreed. We got dressed, went out to lunch then headed off to the mall. I spent a lifetime in line waiting. I retrieved an errant Little Dog more than once. I offered my iPhone to amuse the boys who decided to kill time by trying to kill each other. I held my rather heavy preschooler for a good portion of the wait. I refereed their negotiations for the iPhone. I amused them with chit chat and played time passing word games. I repeatedly reattached the barrier rope that constructed the line. My sister and her boyfriend joined us and we managed to make it to the front of the line.

When we got to the front, the boys transformed into perfect angels. If anyone had witnessed them further back in queue they probably would not have recognized them. Hell, I barely did. They climbed onto Santa's lap and told him what they wanted. It turns out they had a whole different list than the one they'd been telling me all along. Shit. When the photographer told them to pose, they turned it on.

But this is why we do it, right? The perfect Christmas photo. And the boys more than delivered. I may actually have to believe this one, this Santa with the kind eyes and gentle manner, just may be the real Santa.