It’s that time of year! Jolly old Saint Nick has descended from the North Pole and can be found at the shopping mall nearest you!
Some might think mall Santas are creepy or the icon for commercialization of the holiday, but not me. No, when I see the chubby guy in a red suit taking a seat on his throne of honor amidst the chaos of the season, my heart swells. Two years ago I shared this story for the first time and I make a point to go back to it every year for a dose of that wonderful holiday spirit. The magic of Santa is real, and I can prove it…
November 19, 2011: we took the kids to see Santa. It went well – meaning my anti-social one did not scream bloody murder and refuse to sit on his lap. Sure, she’s got a bit of a puss on her face in the photo, but she’s not crying like last year’s pic so it’s a win. She was actually enthralled with Santa this year which was a lot of fun. All the kids were. After the photo, they got a chance to chat with the big guy a bit.
My youngest was beside herself – someone else as jolly and happy and cuddly as her?!? She didn’t cry when I put her on his lap, like most babies. Instead, she cried when I took her off!
My older daughter, barely 2 at the time, was really into the magic of it all and asked “Santa come house? Bring presents?” To which Santa replied, “Yes, if you are a good girl. What would you like Santa to bring you?” With a big smile on her face, she softly said, “lipstick pwease.”
I’m not making this up. My 2-year-old just asked Santa for LIPSTICK for Christmas. I have no idea what we are going to do with that one.
But that’s not even the best of it; then, it was my son’s turn.
He politely told Santa his name and address, that he was a good boy at school, and could he please have a Spiderman toy for Christmas? Santa reminded him to also be a good boy at home [put it up Santa, high five!] and then, yes, he could have a Spiderman toy.
That about wrapped it up, so we grabbed our bags and started herding our squirrels out of there, feeling quite pleased with the successful trip.
And that’s when my son stopped, turned to Santa, and asked with furrowed brows, “Why didn’t you come to my house when I lived with my other [biological] mom?”
Oh hot damn. I don’t think they cover questions like that in St Nick Prep.
But bless his rosy-cheeked heart, that Santa was able to think on his toes. “Oooooh, you are R?! I was hoping you’d come to see me! You see, there was a terrible miscalculation in my directions that year and I missed your house. I’m sorry to say that even Santa makes mistakes sometimes. Would you like to wish for one more toy this year to make up for it?”
Relief spread across my 5 year old’s face. Yes, that answer makes sense. It was just a mistake.
“Yes please. Sponge Bob silly bands,” then, “Do you know the Easter Bunny?”
“Yes, we are good friends.”
“You can tell him its okay he missed my old house too.”