Oh, well. At least we didn't wait in line for two freaking hours to see Santa this year.
On the bright side, both girls awoke on Christmas morning besides themselves with excitement because they had heard not only Santa's heavy, plodding footsteps the night before, but also the flush of the toilet. (Apparently milk and cookies are a diuretic.) I'm not sure I'll ever have the heart to tell them that instead of Kris Kringle, it was most likely a jet-lagged and slightly inebriated aunt.