We adventured to the mall today in search of a crib bumper for linebacker baby, who has outgrown his baby bed's weight limit or is very close to it (we're not sure how accurate our home scale is, but we're not taking chances - the crib was rolled out of little one's room tonight).

I was rather dismayed to learn that none of the department stores sold non-designer bumpers by themselves (you have to by a ~$130 set with sheets, blanket, etc. included). I don't need a blanket for him, and I thought I already had crib sheets (turns out I don't, whoops). We got little one's crib bumper for $15 two years ago, but somehow I don't think linebacker baby is the purple butterflies/pink flowers type - even if I was ok with that, I sold her bumper as soon as she moved into a toddler bed.

The trip was hardly wasted, though. On the way there, linebacker baby assaulted our noses with what is known in this household as a code brown. Our first stop in the mall was at the food court restrooms. I went in with him while DH stayed with little one, and came right back out again because there wasn't a freaking changing table in there. DH didn't believe me and stalked into the men's room, where he did locate a changing table. (Um...usually we have the opposite problem, and I've blogged on "daddy rights" several times for the mom board.)

I handed linebacker baby over and took little one, who wanted to be picked up as soon as DH got out of sight (she gets very concerned if we're all together and then some of us disappear). We just kind of lounged by the water fountains since there wasn't anything better to do in the immediate area.

I wasn't even paying attention to my surroundings as little one grew impatient and started whimpering, "Daddy? Daddy?" - they really were taking a while in there!

"He's still in there with the baby," a man's voice drifted across my awareness. I looked up from little one to see an older gentleman with a fantastic salt-and-pepper (mostly salt) beard wheeling himself over to us from the restroom. I guess the empty baby carrier I was wearing gave us away as belonging together (tangent: I love wearing him - and did with little one as well - though if we had more money, I'd burn our crappy carrier and buy a BabyBjorn in a heartbeat).

Now, although my daughter is normally a happy, bubbly and almost over-friendly little girl (we rarely go anywhere without random strangers commenting on her, and today was no exception), when she's worried all of that flies out the window. You can imagine my surprise when she looked at the man approaching us and broke into a shy but warm little grin, instead of whining and burying her face in my neck.

He came right up to us and started talking to her, and that grin just got wider and wider, until my Little Miss Sunshine was exactly that - a ray of happy sunny delight. I actually didn't stop him when he reached out a chubby finger and tickled her - ordinarily I'd have gone into mother bear mode and backed or strode away. There was just something right about him, and his grin was almost as big as hers.

"Now, let me give you my name," he said to me as little one giggled in my arms. He dug out a grubby ID card from his pocket and handed it to me. It was legitimate as far as I could tell, and my eyes flicked from the picture to his face and back to the name next to his likeness. His eyes were amused as he noted my expression.

Santa Clause.

I handed the ID back to him, and my expression must have given away my thoughts (as it often does, darnit).

"That's really my birth name," he said. "If our family name was Kringle, you can guess what they would've chosen." (Hey, I'm not holding the "e" against him - it actually lent him authenticity in my eyes.)

He could not have known it, but little one's first name has a bit of holiday in it as well, and she just could not keep her eyes off him. I think they connected somewhere beyond my understanding, even though she doesn't know the name of the storybook man in red just yet.

"Be a good girl for your mom," he told her softly, and she grinned and threw her arms around me. I looked away to see whether DH and the baby were out yet, and when I looked back, not wanting to appear rude, he was already gone.

Little one met Santa in khaki shorts and a white polo today. Who says there's nothing magical about this old world?