Last year, we spent about 40 minutes in line trying to keep a small bald turtle child awake just long enough to see Santa, and arguing over why BLUE SHOES ARE NEITHER CHRISTMASY NOR MATCHY, JASON STORCH:
This year, we spent 15 minutes in line (the 15 longest damn minutes of my entire life, and that's about how long my c-section took) trying to keep Noah from throwing yet another temper tantrum over GOD KNOWS WHAT (seriously, what? what do you want? what are you pointing at? why are you flailing? how do you DO that, when your whole body turns to ungrippable goo?) and jumping out of line to get a stupid balloon from the mall concierge because Trader Joe's has created a Balloon-Loving Monster, but hey! At least Santa looked slightly less lit this year:
Plus, I picked out his outfit. Although yes, it's totally bugging me that you can see his diaper even after I straightened his clothes out a dozen times, but he's about .2475 seconds away from throwing his arms up and body-gooifying his way off of Santa's lap here, so whatever.
Another magical childhood moment, all for only $17.99 plus tax.