Listening to: Phil Spector, A Christmas Gift For You
And a damn good thing I'm listening to it or else I'd be insane.
After Eve of Christmas Eve at the mall, there's no reason to reassess my oath to misanthropy, the Mr. and Mrs. Mefirsters of the World all out and throwing down attitude faster than their overextended plastic. The brood in tow and dressed to melt the steeliest reserve, on our way to Kiddee Kandeds, my arms loaded down with winter jackets while trying to corral my trio through the crowd and stay focused, point 'A' to point KK, K? The throng around me meandered mindlessly, cudchewing and taking up oxygen and not at all mindful that wee ones were knee-level, underfoot and awed at the big, big mall I never take them into, unaware of all else other than being wherever first or getting whatever done done fast, "If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly."
Cattle stampede notwithstanding, we landed into the photo studio unscathed and found a competent staff overwhelmed, not waiting for us, not wanting to pose tots but up to the task, just jaded ciphers in a mall waiting to swipe another magnetic strip though a machine. Not caring that I have the three cutest kids in the world, they took to our demand for eternity with the alacrity of morticians and my children took to them with likewise enthusaism. And as they say, a good time was had by all.
While we waited for the prints, I submitted to urchin's urgings of indulgence in the mall's "play town", a place where glops of polyurethene pass for playground equipment and parents pass for living human beings. What the thirteen-year old monstrosities were doing there, other than bowling over toddlers, was beyond me but I was thinking how the "play town" inventor was probably in prison somewhere. Why three grown adults thought the book in my face was an invitation to talk to me was equally as vexing. My misanthropy grew to universal proportions.
Of course the kids were oblivious to our heroic escape from the mall parking lot as I navigated the minivan up and down the maze of aisles without as much as gunplay or having to swing a tireiron. What an adventure!