Dear Mom it is too late we already told Santa

Dear Mom it is too late we already told Santa

There are few things more wonderful than watching a little girl marvel at Christmas. Claire has gone through all the normal questions. How does Santa go everywhere in one night? How does Santa get in your house if you don’t have a chimney? I am dreading the day when some kid tries to tell her there is not Santa Claus and I have to figure out a way to break it to her that her father has been lying to her for years. I am torn at which will be worse. The look of disappointment in her face that there is no Santa or the look of disappointment that her Daddy could betray her.

“What? No Santa, I suppose the Tooth Fairy is fake too?” It will not be a good day.

Last week we made our annual pilgrimage to visit Saint Nicholas in his natural environment, the mall.

I had tried to get Claire to dress up in a new fancy dress, but she insisted on wearing something red. It was not her best shirt and had seen better days but it was clean and I gave up arguing with her. “Okay this time you pick out the shirt, next time it is my turn.” This worked with vegetables too. It also worked on Saturday morning. “Okay you pick out the show we want to watch this morning and I will pick out a show this evening.” Thus, cartoons only lasted till I wanted to watch TV.

It was the Saturday before Christmas and Crown Center was busy. Not that I expected to squeak in when no one was there, I suppose I should have gone sooner, or tried the Santa at Bass Pro Shop or something, anything. The line looked like it was going to be an hour or more. It was in fact an hour and a half. The line wound around the escalators, past several shops and ended in Crayola Land. A magical place where you must take off your shoes but are still not allowed to climb on the Crayola cabin. You could slide on the Crayola box lid but must stay off the oversize blocks.

Claire played while Daddy stood in the final line. As I moved close she sensed the ensuing event and came to stand beside me and put her shoes back on.

“Is that the real Santa?” She looked toward the Santa. He was a pretty good Santa as far as looks go. He had a real beard, which he had groomed for years. Reading spectacles adorned the end of his nose and he seemed altogether jolly.

“Yup, it sure is.” I assured her.

She stared at him for a moment then turned to the girl running the camera as she stared at a computer screen cropping the latest photo. “Is that the real Santa?” She pointed at the Santaesque man in the chair. I guess my word was just not quite enough. But somehow this girl, who was obviously on the Jolly Old Elf’s payroll, was going to be an authority. The camera girl reassured her. “Yes, that is the real Santa, all the way from the North pole.”

This seemed to satisfy her.

I was a little concerned she would be nervous.

“Daddy can you be in the picture too?” It is much easier to sit on a stranger’s lap if your Daddy is there too.

Last year she almost didn’t sit on his lap. Either she was much bolder this year or this Santa was all together more friendly.

“Hi Santa.” I said as we walked up.

“Hello there.” He answered. It was his real voice, no north pole accent for this Santa. Sounded like he was from mid to Southern Missouri. Not quite the boot heal but South of I 70. Claire popped up on his knee with no problem at all. I saddled up on the other side and smiled for the camera.

As I got up to walk around to the other side Santa asked, “So, what do you want for Christmas?”

“I want a skate board with a purple lightning bolt.” This was not what we had rehearsed. Where were the Barbie dolls, the Legos? For the last month we had assembled a list. Now at the moment of truth she springs this.

“What else do you want?” A good Santa indeed, let’s get something else on the list.

“Just a skate board with a purple lightning bolt.” Admittedly this was not a red rider BB gun but I was not happy about the choice. First of all she is five and cannot even ride her bike yet without training wheels. A skate board? Second of all, I don’t recall ever seeing this ad on the TV. Where was I going to find a skate board with a purple lightning bolt. What is the use of subjecting our kids to endless commercials of brightly colored overpriced childhood accessories if she was not even going to put one on her list? The Toy industry had let me down. Third, it was December and the wind chill was ten below zero, she would not even be able to use it for four more months. Fourth, if you were going to only ask for one thing, why not world peace?

“Okay,” said Santa, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Claire jumped down as I paid for our 5 x 7 photo. She was feeling pretty proud at this point. We walked out of the Crayola land and set out toward the gingerbread village. It was indeed a gingerbread village, but not at all impressive. Too many pastry shows on the food channel had set the bar too high for the average gingerbread village developer.

After a sojourn through the Crayola shop and a search for a cookie shop we were finally on our way home. “Maybe Santa will bring you something else, do you think that would be okay?”

“No, Santa, is pretty good about these things Dad.”

I knew I was reaching but I was trying to set up the Christmas morning to be something other than a disappointment.

“Well, what else do you want beside a skate board?” I pressed for more information.

“A skate board with a purple lightning bolt,” she corrected me, “besides it is too late Daddy, we already told Santa.”

She was right. There was no way out of this. The path was clear. Either I find a skate board with a purple lightning bolt or I accept that she is going to start doubting Santa right now. On the other hand if I do find a skate board it would go along way to convince her there is a Santa when someone try’s to tell her there is not. I may get another year out this? That is, if I find a skate board with a purple lighting bolt.

It occurred to me that a skate board must also come with the requisite elbow and knee pads. We already had a helmet. Plus, I was fairly certain the skate board fad would last about as long as it took her to fall off the first time, I give it 15 seconds. What about the mystery of Christmas? The wonder of the season? The magic in a child’s eyes as they rush downstairs Christmas morning?

Clearly, there were conflicting goals here that would weigh heavily on my mind for the next week.

Love Mike