Take a look at this picture:
I know I’m biased, but I think the boys look pretty darn good. Especially considering that the visit to Santa was a spur of the moment decision while we were at the mall, they were dressed like orphans, and we are currently going for the record for the longest time between haircuts .
So what did the lady dressed like an elf taking the picture of my boys ask me, perfectly seriously and within earshot of Jack?
“Is that the best the older boy can smile?”
Ummmm. Things I wanted to say:
“Where’d they find you? The elf reject store?”
“Oh, goody. Another graduate with a degree in Working-With-Kids-For-Mean-People-That-Don’t-Like-Kids.”
“Well, he’s been really sad since we told him Santa was a sham.”
“Hey older boy. Come over here and kick this lady’s a**.”
What I did say – nothing for fear that if I opened my mouth one of the above, or worse, would escape.
What John said – “I think they look beautiful.” And he was right. Take that, cranky elf lady.