The Shopping Mall Santa Strikes Again
“Were you naughty or nice this year?”
Next to me, Bianca stood on the tips of her toes just to try and get a better look at the Santa sitting obscured behind a series of overlarge candy canes.
“Auntie Gemma, how much longer?” she asked, a near-whine in her six-year-old voice as she tugged on my hand impatiently.
I plastered a smile on my face even though she had already asked me three times in the past five minutes. “Not too much longer,” I said between gritted teeth. “Santa’s a busy man. We have to wait our turn.”
My answer obviously didn’t fly well with my niece, a pout coming to her lips as she continued her jittery dance. With my free hand, I checked my phone and swallowed a sigh. Was it too late to ask Santa for a time machine?
My sister Nessa wouldn’t be off work from her shift at Macy’s for another half-hour, but she had insisted I take Bianca to see Santa in the middle of the shopping mall while we waited. Never mind that the line had snaked around for what felt like an eternity of waiting. I supposed kids weren’t the only ones who had problems with waiting, given how many parents I’d seen looking at their phones intermittently since we’d been standing in line.
