Naughty or Nice
We are at the theme park in Colorado called "North Pole." Guess what the motif is. It includes the world's highest ferris wheel and about a dozen fair/carnival rides for the kids. Of course, the main course is meeting and getting your photograph with old St. Nick, himself.

Abbie, Auntie Kristi (still pregnant), Emma and I dared the sub-zero temperatures one day during our past trip. We were warned at the entrance that we needed to go see Santa before the crowd swelled, so we did.

We pointed out to the mother-to-be the key differences between boys and girls just with the surrounding specimens. The girls were huddled together singing Christmas Carols. The boys? They were throwing sticks, jumping in the snow and climbing everything that could be climbed. They were entertained, and so were we.

After about a half an hour of standing in the biting wind, we reached the front door of St. Nicholas' "house." Inside were an elaborate array of toys, a photographer complete with all of the studio lighting, and a big armchair with the jolly fellow reclined comfortably. Right before being able to enter into the living room to recite your wish list, one could write in the guest book perched on a small shelf about three and a half feet off of the ground attached to the wall.

We were about three groups away from Mr. Claus when "it" happened. It was the funniest thing I had seen since Emma accidentally and profusely peed on herself during our Christmas tree cutting adventure.

A little girl about 9 or 10 had just gotten her photo taken with the big man and was suppose to exit his house like all of the other visitors, through the exit door. This gal, let's call her "Lucy" was not desiring the lemming approach to exiting, instead she wished to reek havoc on all of the cold cramped folks who still had not yet gotten to sit on the red suited one's lap. Lucy approached the gate where we were waiting.

The next woman in line told her that she was suppose to go out the other way.

"I don't want to." Lucy roughly stated.

"But everyone is coming in this way, you need to go that way." the kind-voice woman repeated while extending a finger to the exit door.

In an octave or two higher as well with much more force, Lucy exclaimed loudly, "I DON'T WANT TO GO THAT WAY!"

The stranger woman decided in an instant to not challenge the head-strong girl and opened the gate for her to go out the in door.

Instantly, Lucy cracked her noggin on that guest book signing shelf, right square on her temple. She dropped like Saddam in a rat-hole, right to her knees. There was a silent gasp of breathe by all that witnessed the painful contact between hard flesh and even harder wood.

Then I think the entire enclosed group of Santa helpers, parents, and even the bearded one, himself filled their faces, from ear to ear with smiles of self-satisfaction. As if each were thinking the same exact thing, "Instant Karma".