THE REAL THING

Spent my evening at the mall looking for some cool Lightning gear for mini-me and some jeans for the other little darling. I had a bad "Christmas too early" vibe as we drove up, but ... no. No decorations on the lightpoles in the lot and no big bows on the doors.
I figured the guy who moved daylight savings a week , got together with the guy who moved Thanksgiving a week, and they decided to hold back on the glittery extravaganza until we all finished shredding our calendars.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear?
One skinny-ass Santa, that's what.
This was too funny. Perched out there in front of the only thing Christmas they drug out of storage ( one big old tree ), was a guy who wasn't foolin aaaannyone. When did Jared start a Subway chain north of the Artic circle?
Anyway, since there was no line, we went through the motions. My 4 year old son steps up, stands in front of Santa (too scared to sit on his lap), and says " Where's your fat belly?" Now, I'm crackin up, and Santa goes into this prerehearsed Mrs. Claus diet speech that he will no doubt be repeating to EVERY kid he sees.
My advice- You're gonna lose your voice rollin out that diet schpiel to the next thousand kids, so slide a pillow under the parka slim.