Santa smiled at the sight of the little tykes having fallen asleep whilst awaiting his arrival. Then he noticed the Prissy Polly doll positioned precisely below the midpoint of the window ledge, a possible sign of cult activity, according to a brochure he had read whilst flying over Nova Scotia. Then he spied the evil baby doll perched on the hand-embroidered bench on the right, potentially burbling in wickedness over the night’s developments. Santa didn’t know what was going on here, but he would certainly not be eating any cookies at this stop…