Back when I knew everything, I was convinced the whole Santa thing was a terrible, no-good idea. I figured that I didn't need some omnipresent know-it-all to keep my kid in line as she (or he or they) would listen to me just because I was the boss of the universe.

Go ahead, laugh.

Done now?

Moving on . . . so then I had a kid and you can probably imagine just how long the whole "Just Say No to Santa" thing lasted. I do have to give myself a little credit, though. I managed to make it over three years without whipping out the Santa Card. Then Alexis had a particularly jerktastic day at some point this summer and I grabbed myself a whole deck of Santa Cards and told her, "If you don't knock it off, Santa won't bring you any presents for Christmas."

Her reaction was so magical that I went out and invested in a whole case of those Santa Cards. Threats! With results! Fun!

Ever since then I've relied on that Santa Card when I was too lazy to come up with a real threat. It works every time because Alexis is scared to death that Santa will notice she's up to no good and will refuse to drop her Princess ball under the tree. (I know, the kid needs to figure out that Santa can do better than a Princess ball.)

We spent a good part of Sunday out Christmas shopping and included a stop in an area upscale mini mall (The Galleria for you nosy types ;-) ). It turns out that when you are surrounded with stores that charge a fortune for potholders and kids' clothes, there is an excellent chance that the mall Santa will come complete with a cheap suit and a really bad fake beard. As we walked past, we offered to let Alexis talk to him, but she was having none of it. Of course. It was sort of for the best anyway since she is going to be one of those kids who figures out the whole Santa thing way too soon. The really bad fake beard would have been quite the hint.

Since she didn't want to chat up the fat guy, we ducked into Panera for some unnecessary junk food. As we were standing in line, Alexis kept putting a disgusting germ-ridden glitter-covered keychain in her mouth, and I kept telling her to knock it off. Finally, as we were stepping back into the mall, I snatched the keychain from her mouth and shoved it in my pocket.

She wasn't amused.

She stomped her feet, summoned some crocodile tears, and started whining that she wanted her keychain back. I am deaf to whining, so I just kept on walking, letting her lag behind and continue on with her fit.

Then it occurred to me. We had just walked past Santa.

"Santa saw you being bad," I told her.

Alexis froze in her tracks, her face contorting into a look that clearly said she didn't know the exact curse word she needed, but it probably rhymes with "duck."

"No, he didn't," she attempted to argue her way out of the quandary.

"He's right there and he saw you being bad. Now what are you going to do?" I asked, fighting the urge to bust out laughing.

She stood silently weighing her options and then ran back to see if the Big Guy had indeed seen the error. Just as she laid eyes on him, he looked up and waved at her.

I nearly passed out trying not to laugh at the look on the kid's face. She knew she was screwed.

After some negotiations between Mr. Husband, myself, and Alexis, it was decided that I would tell Santa that Alexis had apologized for her bad behavior.

She's been an angel ever since.