It's a terrible thing us parents do. We drag our kids out in the evening when they should be getting ready for bed, doll them up in their cutest Christmasesque attire, wait in line where kids in WWII pilot hats and goggles stare at you mumbling something about liking
The Wizard of Oz, and then we plunk our unsuspecting tots on the lap of some fat stranger (who sits on a throne of lies, by the way) and snap away. Here's how Sam reacted:
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What is this? Who the heck are you?
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Uh, anyone else have some concerns here? Mom? Dad? What's going on?
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Let go of me! You're not Santa!