My Husband *hates* malls.
It is difficult to get him out of the house -- especially during the week.
Getting him to a mall on a Tuesday night that us about 20-30 miles away so that Our Girls can take pictures with a jolly Santa was an act of Congress.
Today, I love my husband even more than I did yesterday -- and it grows the more I tell this story.
You see, last night, Our Family trekked to a mall that is very Dallas-cliche in an attempt to get a magical photo op with ole St. Nick. I had taken some care in asking some co-workers where they had thier kid's picture made, and this mall was recommended. In an attempt to be efficient, I also asked, "where in the mall is Santa?" so I could park nearby. I find out by two different people that Santa is right through this particular sporting goods store. Got it. Park, get in, snap pic, leave.
We finish supper, do the dishes, get the girls all dressed up -- tights and all. It's already bed time for The Little One. Bed time is fast approaching for My Eldest.
Both girls fall asleep in the car on the way to the mall. They wake up grumpy and puffy eyed. Hubby and I bicker with Eldest and warn her that if she doesn't straighten up before we see Santa, we will be asking Santa to put her name on the Naughty Kid list and bring her a lump of coal. She pouts but acquiesces.
Parking is SUPER. Great! Going just as planned. Break out diaper bag, put baby in stroller, grab baby's sister by hand and let's roll.
We huff and puff our way through the sporting goods store. No Santa.
But there is a cute sign that says, "Santa is now by Sears on the lower level". They don't tell you that Sears is a half mile walk away from where you are currently standing.
Shit. Hubby is hating me right now, I think. Could this get any worse??
YES.
We walk through the mall only to be accosted and obnoxiously approached by 20-something trying-to-makke-a-little-extra-money-right-now (plastic) sales people at a kiosks that are strategically planted approximately 5 feet between each other.
In a French accent, "Madame, ah you nail natwahl?" Are my what what? I ask, "excuse me?". He repeats the phrase 3 times before I understand that he's asking if my nails are natural. Neither of us have been in a mall recently enought to figure out that this is the new way of drumming up bisness. Hubby is huffy. I politely walk away only to be slammed by aromatherapy, hermit crabs, moving pictures and remote control helicopters. Rude. Rude. RUDE!
And then the choir sings, the vastness illuminates and
There
HE
is.
In his beautiful suspenders. Giant jolly belly. Long natural wavy beard. Long natural hair. Cute round wire-rimmed glasses. Red nose and cheeks. He's a magical sight indeed. Santa Claus sits and chats and laughs -- with the DOGS
You see, Tuesday night is friggin PET NIGHT. So there are a ton of pets in line! We ask the 20-something I-don't-want-to-go-to-college-right-now punk-ass security guard, "where is the entrance to the line?" After all, the posted time for Santa pictures is until 9:00 p.m. and it's only 8:20.
Guard (bowing his chest importantly): Awww, it's closed.
Me: uhhh, excuse me?
Guard (defensively): Well y'know, Santa's gotta go home and eat. He's been here since 10 a.m.
I collect my madness and take a big gulp. God gives me patience.
Me: I just drove 40 minutes to get here. The sign says you're open till 9:00.
Guard: This is the busiest night I've seen since I been here. It'll take him more than an hour to get through these folks in line.
SHIT -- Hubby is going to LOVE this news. I turn to Hubby and explain what's going on. He's not happy, but he took the news REALLY WELL.
We ended up watching Santa from afar. My Eldest decided last year that she does not believe in Santa. She figured it out on her own, and we had a long talk about letting the littler kids believe and not spoil the secret. Now, this year, she seems on the fence. She WANTS to believe in Santa, but she also is logically realizing something just doesn't add up. So watching her lingering desire to believe as expressed by her twinkling brown eyes and slight smile as she looked on while all the other kids, dogs, cats, lizards and the like get their picture with Santa was so sad for me to experience.
We drove all that way only to be turned away. My plan imploded. As a result, I wrote a big complaint letter to the mall's management office. Hubby wrote an email to a local news station ranting about the experience. I like his point: Why is the mall choosing to turn away HUMAN children who have human emotions attached to the holidays and Santa, and instead opting to have pets, who don't know or care who Santa is??! I fully respect that pets are family members, but a mall is not the time or place for a pet to be. Take the pet to a Petco where there is a Santa waiting for you there. I mean, the liability of having pets at a mall has to be incredible. How would the mall react if someone was deathly allergic to cats? What would they do if a pit bull attacked a child in line? And I'm already on an anti-cat bandwagon right now and I shudder to think that a cat might actually urinate on or spray Santa. Who would allow their kids to sit up there after having animals up there? Frustrating. Very frustrating.
I expressed over and over again to Hubby my gratitude. He really was fantastic about the whole thing and I'm give him public, global props on being a team-player last night.
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