So today we went to take the kids to get pictures with Santa. What Holiday season would be complete without a really excited drive to the location...only to be followed by the realization that those kids do not want a picture with Santa. They want nothing to do with the guy. Lucky enough, or so I thought, there was a Mrs. Claus who charmed my children with grandmotherly skill, giving them candy. Then Santa was able to ask what they wanted and we got several decent pics before the baby girl started going full arch (aka: get-me-the-hell-away-from-whoever-is-holding-me position). So we were all thank yous and Merry Christmas Santa...when it happened. My father-in-law thought it would be funny to say, "Bretimus and Mrs. Bretimus, why don't you get a pic?" I laughed, so did my wife. But the Clauses' interest was piqued. They wanted this, more than anything that was in that enourmous bag of magical gifts Santa had on display. Upon seeing the Clauses, my in-laws only cajoled us more. So we moved forward. My wife tried to sit on the arm rest and Santa was having no part of it. His lap was for all good boys and girls and she...she must've looked like a good girl. I on the other hand am a grown-ass man. There is no way I was going to sit on some mall Mrs. Claus' lap. But I was literally pulled onto her knee. It gets worse, while the in-laws laughed and I smiled through sheer will. Mrs. Claus was all over this opportunity. It's not every day 185 lbs of Brazilian beefcake lands in your lap and she was rubbing my back and getting her some side butt squeeze. Needless to say the moment did not last, and my wife and made a hasty retreat avoiding eye contact with everyone. Three things on a serious note. Why the hell am I putting my precious babies in a stranger's lap? And, the second...no, you will never see these photos. And last, if you were looking to get me something for the Holidays, counseling sessions would be nice. Merry Christmas.