Breast Christmas Ever

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I took my kids to see the Mall Santa Claus today after the incessant "don't be a Scrooge!" from both my inbox and from my husband. I stood in line and went along with all the other little stories that the parents were telling their kids, like "Santa's off feeding his reindeer right now." The whole thing felt like a deleted scene from "A Christmas Story."

I didn't spoil the boys' wide-eyed wonderment, and Ewan was in such awe by the time it was their turn to sit with Santa that I had to retrieve his jaw from the floor so as to get him moving. I was going to sneak some photos of them meeting Santa for the first time but the elves said it was prohibited and one of them was staring at me as I tried to take photos with my phone (which was futile and I only got shots of my thumb).

It was even more precious when Liam told Santa that all he wanted for Christmas was "to have the breast Christmas ever."

He was a good Santa; he didn't skip a beat and with a straight face said that all of his Christmases should be the best ones ever.

Ewan told Santa that he wanted a Toodee, a train, and a "spot elephant." I'm all WTF? on that last one, too. 

On the way out we saw some Marines ("NUTCRACKERS!" Ewan hollered and pointed. I didn't correct him because in a way it was true) and other servicemen and as custom, we stopped them, shook their hands, and thanked them for their service. I am not a mushy person by any means but to see Liam give thanks nearly made me sob like a big giant baby right in the mall next to a kiosk of knock-off purses.

Waiting for Santa
Waiting for Santa.

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