We are Santa people.
Now certainly and absolutely without question, the glorious birth of Jesus Christ and what that one event in history ultimately led to for all mankind is the real "reason for the season" and we acknowledge that and hold that sacred in our home and hearts; but we really enjoy partaking in some of the fun of imagining a big, kindly old guy bringing gifts for good little boys and girls. We love this time of year: Christmas songs and movies, holiday baking and decorating with an array of Christmas do-dads, everything from traditional nativities to colored lights to snowmen to Santa, himself. (Quite honestly, Christmas looks like it sorta threw up in our house. It's everywhere and in every room but we wouldn't have it any other way.)
Through the years, as our family has grown, Eric and I have developed little traditions that help make the season even more festive. We all sing together whatever song is played as we reveal another day closer to Christmas on our carols advent calendar. The kids get a special "holiday date" with us when we take them to dinner downtown and listen to beautiful music at the Athens Symphony's seasonal concert. On Christmas Eve, we like riding around looking for fun light displays and then coming home to let the kids open their gifts to each other. For fun, we also leave cookies and milk with a note for Santa before bed that night.
Since we are "Santa people" and we always encouraged that youthful belief in our kids, when Ross and Erica were really little we also had the tradition of taking them to see him . They would get so excited anticipating their time upon Santa's knee. However, as they began to age, sitting on some hairy guy's lap wasn't as thrilling for them. By about 10 years old, they also realized it wasn't very profitable either since somehow they had figured out Mom and Dad were the ones who really got the gifts. (At times, I think they would've sat on our laps if they thought it would get them what they wanted.)
Anyway, recently I was thinking about all of that and it dawned on me that since Ross and Erica were older when we had Charlie we had never really continued that tradition with him. Maybe once when he was a baby, we had propped him up in his lap for a photo op while visiting the mall, but not since the boy has been talking and developing his own opinions and thoughts (and whew, does he have them!) have we taken him to meet and visit with the "big guy". So...
Monday night was the annual "Christmas in Oglethorpe" event. This is the night when they light the big tree in front of the courthouse in Lexington and local talent warbles over the mic while people visit vendors selling coffee and funnel cakes, books, jewelry and other holiday paraphernalia. Santa and Mrs. Claus come riding through downtown on a float escorted by ridiculously loud siren shrills from firetrucks and police cars and are then seated in comfy chairs for the lines of children that want to share their Christmas lists with ol' Kris Kringle. After I'd walked the circle of vendors and pretty much had the"been there, done that" attitude but Ross was still playing with the jazz band (which of course, is the best thing about the whole event) and we couldn't leave yet, I decided to let Charlie experience the wonder of meeting Santa. I just knew this would be exciting for him, a real memory maker!
As I took his hand in mine he looked up and asked where we were going. I said, "Hey, don't you want to go see Santa?" With the twinkle of innocence in his big blue eyes, he answered "Sure, okay, yeah!" We found our place in line with other excited children. After a few minutes of waiting, Charlie turned to me and said, "Why do I need to see Santa Claus? He already knows what I want. If he knows if I've been good or bad then he definitely knows what I want for Christmas." "Well yeah, but wouldn't it be fun to see him and be able to talk to him yourself?", I encouraged. Saying nothing more, Charlie and I waited a few minutes more. With kids milling everywhere and parents scoping out the best place to take their precious "Santa with child" photo, we finally inched close enough to the action that Charlie could actually see Santa and his wife seated in front of us. This is when he turned to me with a very serious tone and said, "Mom, this is not Santa Claus." "What? Sure it is. What makes you say that?" Now, granted even I was wondering why it was that this guy's red suit looked like it had come off the salvation army's backroom floor and why, oh why, did his beard and hair have to look so horrifically fake, but alas perhaps Charlie would look beyond all that and chalk it up to how hurried and busy Santa was this time of year. Well...NOT!
Charlie again declared to me (in a not so quiet voice) "Mom, this is really not Santa. That man has glasses and his hair is so crazy and I don't think he is even going to know my name." Not sure what to say, I gently patted his back and tried feebly to assure him that if he isn't Santa then he must be one of his elves. Looking up at me like I had a booger on the end of my nose, Charlie shook his head. With only one more child ahead of us, Charlie, who had really been studying the scene with a great deal of interest, sighed and decided out loud that he was not going to talk to this strange man in a bad costume and that he was only going up there because I wanted to take his picture. I pleaded with him to be nice and to not act shy. Then I noticed that as each child slid off Santa's lap they got a little bag of candy. I pointed this out to Charlie and he replied with "What if I don't like the candy in the bag?" "Well, then you say thank you anyway.", I said. "Thanks but no thanks?" Charlie asked. "No, just say thanks and take the bag offered to you.", I corrected. "But what if it has crap in it I don't want." "Charlie, don't say crap! Look, just take the bag of candy and say thank you, ok?", I snapped. Growling a little, Charlie kicked the dirt. About that time, a lady walked over and told Charlie that he could now go visit with Mrs. Claus while he waited for the little girl in front of him to finish talking to Santa. Charlie turned to me and said, "I don't want to see her." Smiling nervously at the lady who was trying to move us on, I pushed Charlie forward and I took my place over to the side. With head down and moving as though he really had all year to get there, Charlie climbed the stairs and walked up to Mrs. Claus (who incidentally, had a better costume than her husband). As she smiled and extended her arms to welcome him to her lap, he looked back at me then reached past her for a bag of candy and trudged forward with not so much as a word to Santa's better half. Embarrassed, I said "Hey, Charlie come talk to Mrs. Claus." It is at this point that Charlie suddenly lost his ability to hear my voice. He started looking around as though he was searching for something important in the air.
Finally, the girl was done regaling her many High School Musical and Hannah Montana needs to jolly ol' St. Nick and he laughed a hearty "Ho, Ho, Ho" as Charlie literally leaned up against him. Pulling Charlie up onto his lap, I roll my eyes as he completely ignored all questions from Santa about his name and age. Feeling like eternity was passing during the awkward silence, Charlie finally looked at this so-called "Santa" character and said, "I want drums. Drums. Okay?" "Ho, Ho, Ho, well, should I bring your mom there some earplugs too then? Ho, Ho, Ho!", Santa quipped. I smile but Charlie, not amused and now completely "over it", began to get off his lap as I tried to quickly snap a photo. Practically running to get away from the madness, Charlie headed back over to me and proclaimed, "OK, I did it. Can you open my candy bag?" "Yep, you did it, alright." I said, laughing at the whole crazy thing. When Eric asked later what Charlie thought about meeting Santa, all he could say was he "got a sucker and it was cherry flavored." Wow, what a memory maker!
I heard the Santa at the mall is a very good one with a real beard and nice suit and I've thought about taking Charlie to see him but what is really nice to know is that, he doesn't have to talk to him in person to feel confident that there is a Santa. He's got his own definite ideas about him. He likes speculating about how Santa is going to get into our house since we removed the chimneys last summer and he loves leaving those cookies for him and seeing the crumbs left behind on the plate the next morning. And it has really become a fun tradition in its own rite for Ross and Erica to help me and Eric perpetuate the belief for Charlie (and soon Lewie).
So, thinking about all of it again today, I say this... Christmas is wonderful, family traditions are terrific, children are hilarious and make-shift Santa wannabes are only good if they offer cherry flavored suckers.
Merry Christmas to you and yours!
