Santa Claus day.

Okay, so we don’t really do Christmas—like, at all—but taking a picture with Santa is one Christmas tradition we can get behind. It’s the only way our kids will know who this St. Nic guy is in a couple of years when they start hearing people talk about him. So we got on the bus and headed for the mall, because where else would Santa be found three weeks before the big day?

Ouest was less than enthused by the idea. She sort of went along with it because going to the big mall in town means going on the merry-go-round.

Of course, being Mexico, Santa wasn’t there in the afternoon when we arrived. Siesta. But we were able to walk around in his little elf kingdom and touch his stuffed reindeer. Ouest was getting more leery by the minute.

We went and had lunner which was right up above where Santa would be, and then finally he appeared. Looking much more grande than previous Mexican Mall Santas that we’ve encountered. He looked up and waved at our kids who were standing against the glass looking down at him. Lowe waved, Ouest did not.

On our walk down to see him the negotiating began. Or begging. Whatever. Ouest insisted that it was, “Lowe’s turn.” Not wanting to be selfish is her strong suit.

Once right outside his gate she started to lose her marbles. She wasn’t having any of this Santa crap. Santa tried to come over and be nice but she shunned him. Shunned Santa. Lowe didn’t care about any of it because there were little berries he could pull off the trees—he was all set.

Ali and I were finally like, all right this is ridiculous, let’s get it over with. I picked Ouest up, promised her a cup of ice cream from the stand right next to Santa, and carried her over to the big chair while Ali grabbed Lowe.

She went berserk. The four of us were sitting on this giant green chair, trying to tell her we wouldn’t leave and that Santa was just going to sit next to us. She was screaming and arching her back as if she were getting approached by a doctor with a giant needle and being held down by four nurses. The two photographers were looking at us like we were about to lose them their jobs and we needed to get the F out of there.

After what felt like an hour of this the photog motioned to me to look up. Santa was behind the chair, standing on another chair, peeking over the top at us. Ouest didn’t see him anywhere near her so she at least stopped screaming for a second while they snapped off a couple of pictures.

And there we have it—Santa Claus.

For our kids—so that someday they can see we were always sarcastic teasing jerks.