Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) by Jonathan Sal; Lane Lizard, Jonathan Lane Page A
Authors: Jonathan Sal; Lane Lizard, Jonathan Lane
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of it.
AFTER A FEW YEARS OF BEING A SANTA IN VAR ious malls, my techniques became rather well-known by many parents. Some even recognized me when they saw me from the line or brought their child up for a picture and would say, “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you again! You’re really good!”
I’m just doing what Santa would do,
I’d think to myself and smile.
EIGHT
Santa’s Giggles, Gear, and Gadgets
B EING SANTA CLAUS HAS GOT TO BE THE BEST job in the world. I get to spend two months out of the year hearing children’s secret wishes and their pint-size pearls of wisdom. Some of my most treasured memories are the chuckles I’ve gotten from kids just being open and honest. I never know what they’ll say or do next.
I remember once standing in the checkout line at a department store (in non-Santa clothing) when a little girl around four years old came over to me and asked sheepishly, “What’s your name?”
I looked over at her mom who was standing a few feet away, and she nodded her approval. So I bent down and replied, “Honey, who do you think I am?”
“I think you’re Santa,” she said.
“Well,” I said and grinned. “Then you’d better be really good.”
Her face lit up with pride. “Oh, I am!” she said and smiled broadly. “I’m not even peeing in my underpants right now!”
Yes, kids will say pretty much anything to Santa, much to the embarrassment of many parents I’ve met. One Christmas season as a mall Santa, I had a little girl of about six sit down and ask me, “Do you ever spank naughty girls?”
I’m sure a look of shock came through in the surprised expression on my face. This was a new one for me. “Absolutely not, sweetie,” I said. “Santa would never spank a child. Why, did someone tell you that you needed a spanking?”
She took a big breath the way young children do when they’re about to tell you an important story with lots of details. “Well, one time I got up in the night to get a drink of water, and I saw Daddy dressed up like you. He asked Mommy if she’d been naughty or nice, and Mommy said that she’d been naughty. So Daddy said that if she was naughty, then he was going to have to spank her. And then Mommy said she liked when Daddy spanked her.”
Oh, boy,
I thought, fighting back a smile. I looked up at her parents, who suddenly realized the story their daughter was spilling to Santa. The girl’s poor mother was burying her head in her husband’s chest, trying tocover her face with her hands. The father, meanwhile, winced and turned bright red.
“Ho, ho, ho!” I said, masking a chuckle. “Sometimes, sweetheart, daddies dress up as Santa, but they don’t always get it exactly right. It takes a lot of practice. It sounds like your mommy and daddy were just playing a game. I think the next time you see something like that, you should probably just go back to bed.” And with a reassuring smile and a wink, I said in the parents’ direction, “And hopefully Mommy and Daddy will learn to play Santa Claus better next year.”
At another mall appearance, I had a series of children come up one after the other, each concerned about my weight and health. I learned later that they were all part of the same first grade class and had just finished a unit on nutrition. The first one, a little girl, had two cookies with her. She handed me one and kept the other for herself, saying, “This cookie is for you, Santa. It’s sugar-free because I don’t want you to get diet Wheaties.”
The next child, a little boy, asked me, “Do you ever get stuck in chimneys?”
Then a little girl inquired, “Do you know what your cholesterol level is?”
Finally, a boy looked me up and down and asked me with a straight face, “Santa, did you ever think of giving yourself a gym membership for Christmas?”
But perhaps my most treasured memory didn’t make me laugh so much as simply melt my heart. Childrenusually meander at a normal pace up to my chair to meet
AFTER A FEW YEARS OF BEING A SANTA IN VAR ious malls, my techniques became rather well-known by many parents. Some even recognized me when they saw me from the line or brought their child up for a picture and would say, “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you again! You’re really good!”
I’m just doing what Santa would do,
I’d think to myself and smile.
EIGHT
Santa’s Giggles, Gear, and Gadgets
B EING SANTA CLAUS HAS GOT TO BE THE BEST job in the world. I get to spend two months out of the year hearing children’s secret wishes and their pint-size pearls of wisdom. Some of my most treasured memories are the chuckles I’ve gotten from kids just being open and honest. I never know what they’ll say or do next.
I remember once standing in the checkout line at a department store (in non-Santa clothing) when a little girl around four years old came over to me and asked sheepishly, “What’s your name?”
I looked over at her mom who was standing a few feet away, and she nodded her approval. So I bent down and replied, “Honey, who do you think I am?”
“I think you’re Santa,” she said.
“Well,” I said and grinned. “Then you’d better be really good.”
Her face lit up with pride. “Oh, I am!” she said and smiled broadly. “I’m not even peeing in my underpants right now!”
Yes, kids will say pretty much anything to Santa, much to the embarrassment of many parents I’ve met. One Christmas season as a mall Santa, I had a little girl of about six sit down and ask me, “Do you ever spank naughty girls?”
I’m sure a look of shock came through in the surprised expression on my face. This was a new one for me. “Absolutely not, sweetie,” I said. “Santa would never spank a child. Why, did someone tell you that you needed a spanking?”
She took a big breath the way young children do when they’re about to tell you an important story with lots of details. “Well, one time I got up in the night to get a drink of water, and I saw Daddy dressed up like you. He asked Mommy if she’d been naughty or nice, and Mommy said that she’d been naughty. So Daddy said that if she was naughty, then he was going to have to spank her. And then Mommy said she liked when Daddy spanked her.”
Oh, boy,
I thought, fighting back a smile. I looked up at her parents, who suddenly realized the story their daughter was spilling to Santa. The girl’s poor mother was burying her head in her husband’s chest, trying tocover her face with her hands. The father, meanwhile, winced and turned bright red.
“Ho, ho, ho!” I said, masking a chuckle. “Sometimes, sweetheart, daddies dress up as Santa, but they don’t always get it exactly right. It takes a lot of practice. It sounds like your mommy and daddy were just playing a game. I think the next time you see something like that, you should probably just go back to bed.” And with a reassuring smile and a wink, I said in the parents’ direction, “And hopefully Mommy and Daddy will learn to play Santa Claus better next year.”
At another mall appearance, I had a series of children come up one after the other, each concerned about my weight and health. I learned later that they were all part of the same first grade class and had just finished a unit on nutrition. The first one, a little girl, had two cookies with her. She handed me one and kept the other for herself, saying, “This cookie is for you, Santa. It’s sugar-free because I don’t want you to get diet Wheaties.”
The next child, a little boy, asked me, “Do you ever get stuck in chimneys?”
Then a little girl inquired, “Do you know what your cholesterol level is?”
Finally, a boy looked me up and down and asked me with a straight face, “Santa, did you ever think of giving yourself a gym membership for Christmas?”
But perhaps my most treasured memory didn’t make me laugh so much as simply melt my heart. Childrenusually meander at a normal pace up to my chair to meet
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