Neither girl wanted to wait in line for hours to sit on Santa's lap. Which I guess shouldn't be a relief since it's a sign they're outgrowing fat, bearded bastards (probably including me).
The food court was loud like an artillery range. I figured Mo would melt down. Or, the way things have gone lately, just have a seizure. But she did great. I got pizza from Original, the girls got Sonic. And after eating pretty much everything that wasn't nailed down, Mo (and for the uninitiated, she rarely speaks in sentences) looked right at me and said, 'Thank you, Daddy.'
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