"...and I wanna remote control car, and a cap gun, and..."

I tuned the child's voice out. After the several dozen before him, it became surprisingly easy. Not because I didn't want to hear whatever inane things the children say, but—

The voice stopped, so I looked down, chuckled, and said, "Hmm, I'll have to look in my stock and make sure I have those for you. Now, be good, hear?" I didn't quite sigh in relief when the kid got up and went back to his parents; that would be unseemly from Santa, even if I'm just a mall Santa. And, honestly, probably one of the worst picks of people who could be mall Santas. The kind of guy parents probably shouldn't be having their little kids climb onto the lap of. But the line was long, and a little girl climbed up this time.

"Can I have a pony? And a princess crown, and..."

I tuned this one out, too. You'd think I'd be used to having kids on my lap after this many, but I'm only more aware of their little bodies when they sit on me. Usually it's just on a leg, but not always. At least it's been a while since a kid had an accident. That's annoying and makes the line back up while I clean up. But she's shifting her hips back and forth on my lap. I know she doesn't mean it, and, for the average guy, it wouldn't have any effect, but for someone like me...