gambling on a good Santa

Why does it seems like your chances of getting a good Santa are like playing the 300 million dollar Power Ball?

You stand in a possibly near-endless line (today, we were lucky and woke up at the crack of dawn to see this display and walked right in. I heard that some people had stood in line for three hours, winding down three lower floors, which I think is crazy. How can any display, Christmas or not, be worth standing in line for three hours, much less with two or so children whining, tired and near starvation, or so they would tell you for the hundredth time, but I digress).

After waiting in line, you get put into another line, passed through this velvet curtain that leads you to believe you are nearly there, you've almost hit the big time, The Big C is near, but not the case, you still wait for them to allow you to turn the corner and actually see Santa.

And there he sat, his beard sagging down with worn out elastic, his white painted eyebrows looking more like a bad eyeshadow job and the twinkle in his eye was actually bloodshot from Saturday night that probably end just a few hours earlier.

The two teenagers took a few pictures of my screaming toddler and the rest of us trying to pin him down onto Santa's lap. They asked if we 'wanted the ten buck 5X7?'. "Why yes, I'd love a picture of this glorious memory!"

This is exactly why we tell Henry that some of those Santas are just helpers, not the real thing, but someone, who will remain nameless, thought it would be more fun for Henry to think he was visiting the real Santa.

This is not something we will be repeating, we will always in future refer to them as Santa's helpers. I'm not gambling on a good Santa, unless we do actually win that Power Ball and can afford those fancy mall Santas where you get a pager to see him.

We didn't actually buy a photo, it was that bad but I had to link up some that were featured on the Ellen Show.