We, Rob and I, had decided to experience the Top End in the wet and, as if you didn’t know, it is damned hot up there at that time of the year. Rob assured me that being Santa would be a wonderfully uplifting experience, and besides, Casuarina Shopping Centre was fully air-conditioned. She had decided to get a job in an air-conditioned office to get some relief from the heat and humidity, away from our caravan, and didn’t like the thought of the mischief I might get up to were she to leave me at home alone.
It took some glib talking but she finally convinced me.
My first duty was to undergo a Police check that I had to pass before being accepted into Santa school. I had to learn what to do and what not to do to avoid the possibility of being caught-up in a lawsuit. Even poor old Santa is thought to be a target for anyone looking for a quick quid.
Nevertheless, it was not all serious and we did get the chance to learn how to dress to impress. It was a bit of an eye-opener; after all the old fella has been around for many years and in that time has learnt a lot about what kids want.
The Santa suit I wore was, of course, made in the North Pole, and was quite suitable for that part of the world. By the time I added a pillow (yes - even those of us who are (slightly) portly had to wear a pillow to give the old chap his traditional shape), it became something of a sauna inside. (You lied Rob!) Thank God for Johnson's Baby Powder and under-arm deodorant.
One of the great joys of being Santa is the happiness on the faces of most of the people that come to see you. How often it was that I would look up to see a smiling face and receive a cheery wave and a "Merry Christmas Santa". How often too I would call, "Merry Christmas" to passers-by who had not noticed me and, except for the odd few non-believers, would almost always receive a wave and a, "And to you too Santa". Their accompanying smiles generally lasted at least until they were out of sight.
The Santa suit I wore was, of course, made in the North Pole, and was quite suitable for that part of the world. By the time I added a pillow (yes - even those of us who are (slightly) portly had to wear a pillow to give the old chap his traditional shape), it became something of a sauna inside. (You lied Rob!) Thank God for Johnson's Baby Powder and under-arm deodorant.
One of the great joys of being Santa is the happiness on the faces of most of the people that come to see you. How often it was that I would look up to see a smiling face and receive a cheery wave and a "Merry Christmas Santa". How often too I would call, "Merry Christmas" to passers-by who had not noticed me and, except for the odd few non-believers, would almost always receive a wave and a, "And to you too Santa". Their accompanying smiles generally lasted at least until they were out of sight.
It happened with “kids” of all ages - even with the most macho of men and boys. Sometimes, a teen boy in a pack might give a smile and wave - but only when he felt sure his mates would not notice. Tiny kids would mostly stare in absolute awe and shyly wave back. Some of them were too scared to enter the Santa stage and cringed back if Santa moved out to greet them.
It was amazing that mums and dads, who would have spent so much time instructing their kids on the dangers of speaking to strangers, would work really hard to get them to sit on Santa's knee and talk to him. They trusted Santa with something very precious.
The job does have its downside. I now know how poor Clark Kent feels. He is a nobody but as soon as he steps out of the phone booth wearing his red underpants over his tight blue leotards, and a red cape around his neck, everybody knows and loves him as Superman. So also with Santa.
You arrive at the Santa stage and spend all morning being greeted, waved to and adored by little children. However, on your lunch break, when you change into your normal clobber - shorts, tee shirt and thongs - and walk past the Santa stage, you are nothing more than a face in the crowd. Not even your photographer knows who you are. It's a sombre reality check.
I usually parked my sleigh at the very large shopping precinct, Casuarina in the burbs, but on one occasion filled in at the Mitchell Centre in the heart of town. I will treasure forever the memories of my times on the centre stages.
On my first, day a young white male happened along pushing a wheelchair. In it was a young aboriginal woman who was profoundly physically and mentally disabled. When he wheeled her up to the fence around the Santa stage I gave her a wave. Her whole body responded with movement and her smile, a huge gaping mouth, lit up the whole of my world. I spent some time making eye contact with her and waving. Every time I got the same response. Even as the carer wheeled her away, her body convulsed as she tried to get her arms to wave to me. The carers who brought her and many others like her into the centres are wonderful people.
On that same first day, just before it came time to hop aboard my sleigh for the ride home, a lady came into the stage area and asked when I would be finishing. My little elf (the photographer) said, "In five minutes".
"I be back in a moment," she called out as she raced off, "I go get my daughter".
A few minutes later she reappeared with a most attractive 20-odd year old young lady. She came straight over to me as her mother set about finalizing negotiations with the photographer. I motioned to her to sit on the seat beside me which, I had been told at Santa school, was the right thing to do with older “kids”. I tried to speak to her but she became distressed and called out to her mother in a language I didn't understand. Mother looked up from her negotiations with the elf and with a very surprised look on her face said, "Can't she sit on your knee?" If you’re happy Mummy, of course she can. First rule from Santa school broken.
That night, when I looked back on the day, I was troubled by the fact that I didn't get off my bum, walk over and reach out a hand to the young disabled woman. Because it was so early in my time, the Santa throne was my security blanket. However, as a result of my deliberations, I vowed that I would no longer spend my time glued to it.
Not a lot of aborigines came onto the set though you can be assured they would wave and smile when they caught Santa's eye or he caught theirs.
I usually parked my sleigh at the very large shopping precinct, Casuarina in the burbs, but on one occasion filled in at the Mitchell Centre in the heart of town. I will treasure forever the memories of my times on the centre stages.
On my first, day a young white male happened along pushing a wheelchair. In it was a young aboriginal woman who was profoundly physically and mentally disabled. When he wheeled her up to the fence around the Santa stage I gave her a wave. Her whole body responded with movement and her smile, a huge gaping mouth, lit up the whole of my world. I spent some time making eye contact with her and waving. Every time I got the same response. Even as the carer wheeled her away, her body convulsed as she tried to get her arms to wave to me. The carers who brought her and many others like her into the centres are wonderful people.
On that same first day, just before it came time to hop aboard my sleigh for the ride home, a lady came into the stage area and asked when I would be finishing. My little elf (the photographer) said, "In five minutes".
"I be back in a moment," she called out as she raced off, "I go get my daughter".
A few minutes later she reappeared with a most attractive 20-odd year old young lady. She came straight over to me as her mother set about finalizing negotiations with the photographer. I motioned to her to sit on the seat beside me which, I had been told at Santa school, was the right thing to do with older “kids”. I tried to speak to her but she became distressed and called out to her mother in a language I didn't understand. Mother looked up from her negotiations with the elf and with a very surprised look on her face said, "Can't she sit on your knee?" If you’re happy Mummy, of course she can. First rule from Santa school broken.
That night, when I looked back on the day, I was troubled by the fact that I didn't get off my bum, walk over and reach out a hand to the young disabled woman. Because it was so early in my time, the Santa throne was my security blanket. However, as a result of my deliberations, I vowed that I would no longer spend my time glued to it.
Not a lot of aborigines came onto the set though you can be assured they would wave and smile when they caught Santa's eye or he caught theirs.
One day, not long after arriving on the set, I noticed a biggish 30-odd year old aboriginal man standing patiently, though a little nervously, in line. When it was finally his turn, he strode up and I wished him a Merry Christmas. He seemed lost for words but finally blurted out, "Will you stand up or do you want me to get down there?"
Fearful of his intent, I said, "I think I'll stand". As I did, he threw his arms around me and with a big bear hug said, "Merry Christmas Santa". I hugged him back and said, "And to you too my friend". He said simply, "Thank you Santa". As he turned to walk off I reached out a restraining hand and offered him a box of crayons that were usually reserved for the little ones. I thought he was going to weep.
Then there was the group of young teenage girls, about 15 or 16 year-olds, who came along as I stood at the fence of the Santa stage greeting passers-by. One of them came up and said, "Santa, can I have a hug?” Of course you can – whereupon she threw her arms around me and embraced me momentarily.
One from the group produced a little disposable camera and asked my new little friend if she wanted to have her photo taken with Santa. She said yes and I gave the OK. With that all the girls tumbled onto the set and asked my elf if she would take a photo with them all in it. She agreed. Second rule of Santa school broken.
I know I have only spoken about some of the experiences with older “kids”. However, every encounter with children was something special. As I think I said, some were terrified, like the little aboriginal baby who, whenever his sister tried to carry him onto the set, screamed and stared wide-eyed at Santa. It was as if he was seeing the personification of a demon from an ancient dreamtime. Sis thought it was funny so I had to tell her to take him away so as not to frighten him.
How often did I jump to the wrong conclusion when older kids came in for a chat. They often started out very brashly but, in reality, their approach would turn out to be a veiled attempt to hide their need to talk to someone who might understand their anxiety of the future!
Take for example when two young girls, about thirteen year olds, dressed in short, short mini-skirts and having bare midriffs - came into the stage area, and told my elf that they didn’t want a photo, just a chat with Santa. I offered them a seat beside me but they said they wanted to sit on Santa’s lap. With hands in full view I arranged their seating and asked them if they were looking forward to Christmas.
“No they said in unison, we’re leaving Darwin.” Oh, that’s not so bad. Are you going on holidays?
“No, we’re going for good.” That is sad but not the end of the world. So, you’re sisters?
“No, we’re best friends from school. I’m going to Perth to live with my father and she and her family are going to Adelaide.” Ooh, Ok. Well it won’t be too bad. You know there is always the internet that you can hop onto fairly cheaply and talk to each other on a chat line. That’s a really good way of keeping in contact.
“I suppose so, and we’ll be able to send each other SMS messages.” Don’t tell me you both have mobile phones.
“Yes we do!” Well obviously you will be able to maintain your friendship and I’m sure you will make lots of new friends wherever you go. Make sure you keep looking at the positives.
“You’re probably right Santa.” And from the one going to live with her Dad, “At least I won’t have to put up with mum's screaming every morning as I have had to over the past couple of years.”
We chat on for a while longer then one says, “I suppose we are getting a bit bony on your leg, eh Santa.” Ah, yes, I was just thinking that.
“OK Santa, we’ll be off.” And with smiles all round, “Thanks for everything.” That’s OK girls, now you make sure you have a very Merry Christmas together.
“We will Santa, and Merry Christmas to you.” (Silently) - Good luck kids.
Then there was the group of young teenage girls, about 15 or 16 year-olds, who came along as I stood at the fence of the Santa stage greeting passers-by. One of them came up and said, "Santa, can I have a hug?” Of course you can – whereupon she threw her arms around me and embraced me momentarily.
One from the group produced a little disposable camera and asked my new little friend if she wanted to have her photo taken with Santa. She said yes and I gave the OK. With that all the girls tumbled onto the set and asked my elf if she would take a photo with them all in it. She agreed. Second rule of Santa school broken.
I know I have only spoken about some of the experiences with older “kids”. However, every encounter with children was something special. As I think I said, some were terrified, like the little aboriginal baby who, whenever his sister tried to carry him onto the set, screamed and stared wide-eyed at Santa. It was as if he was seeing the personification of a demon from an ancient dreamtime. Sis thought it was funny so I had to tell her to take him away so as not to frighten him.
Other children, babies, were too young to know any better - like the couple of 7 and 8-day-old little bundles of joy I got to hold and was photographed with.
Then there were those who were just shy and could hardly bring themselves to come near - like the little girl who was coaxed onto the set by her two brothers – the three, triplets, were about 6 years old.
To cap it all off there were those whose devotion to Santa is absolute - like the little girl who called out across the crowded room, "I love you Santa", thus bringing wide smiles to the faces of everyone within earshot.
How often did I jump to the wrong conclusion when older kids came in for a chat. They often started out very brashly but, in reality, their approach would turn out to be a veiled attempt to hide their need to talk to someone who might understand their anxiety of the future!
Take for example when two young girls, about thirteen year olds, dressed in short, short mini-skirts and having bare midriffs - came into the stage area, and told my elf that they didn’t want a photo, just a chat with Santa. I offered them a seat beside me but they said they wanted to sit on Santa’s lap. With hands in full view I arranged their seating and asked them if they were looking forward to Christmas.
“No they said in unison, we’re leaving Darwin.” Oh, that’s not so bad. Are you going on holidays?
“No, we’re going for good.” That is sad but not the end of the world. So, you’re sisters?
“No, we’re best friends from school. I’m going to Perth to live with my father and she and her family are going to Adelaide.” Ooh, Ok. Well it won’t be too bad. You know there is always the internet that you can hop onto fairly cheaply and talk to each other on a chat line. That’s a really good way of keeping in contact.
“I suppose so, and we’ll be able to send each other SMS messages.” Don’t tell me you both have mobile phones.
“Yes we do!” Well obviously you will be able to maintain your friendship and I’m sure you will make lots of new friends wherever you go. Make sure you keep looking at the positives.
“You’re probably right Santa.” And from the one going to live with her Dad, “At least I won’t have to put up with mum's screaming every morning as I have had to over the past couple of years.”
We chat on for a while longer then one says, “I suppose we are getting a bit bony on your leg, eh Santa.” Ah, yes, I was just thinking that.
“OK Santa, we’ll be off.” And with smiles all round, “Thanks for everything.” That’s OK girls, now you make sure you have a very Merry Christmas together.
“We will Santa, and Merry Christmas to you.” (Silently) - Good luck kids.
I think they both went away a little reassured about the future.
On another occasion a family of four young kids came in with their mother in tow. I remember thinking that there must have been about the same age difference as my own four and, like mine, they were three girls and a boy. I was immediately drawn to them.
As I set about arranging the seating, the two younger ones on my lap and one each on either side, I asked them generally – Well how are we all today?
From the oldest, who would have been no more than six, in a most serious tone, “To tell you the truth Santa, I’m very stressed.”
I looked at her and then at the others, even Mum, and they were all nodding in agreement. Before I had a chance to say anything she continued, “It’s just getting too much, what with the packing and the removalists and everything.” Oh, so you’re moving home are you?
“Yes.” Are you still going to be living in Darwin?
“No we’re moving to Coffs Harbour and it’s such a worry.” With a voice I hoped would sound incredulous - You’re moving to Coffs Harbour and you’re worried!
Suddenly there were five sets of eyes – including Mum’s - riveted on me. Without shifting her gaze, Mum sat down on the floor, crossed legged, and the young boy jumped off the knee so as to get a better look at Santa’s face. Oh shit, how the hell did I get into this! Oh well, here goes.
I know you are probably worried about leaving Darwin and all the friends you have here but, you know, I deliver presents to quite a lot of children in Coffs. They are really nice and I’m sure that when you get there you will make friends with many of them. It's a lovely place. It’s smaller than Darwin but there are plenty of things to do there. You can even swim in the ocean as there are no crocs.
From the young boy, “And no box jellyfish Santa?” No mate, no box jellyfish, and it’s not nearly as hot as it is here. The schools are great too. You’re going to have so much fun.
The smiles start to appear, “Do you really think so Santa.” I know so darling.
The stresses of life seem now to be dissolving so we are able to get on with sorting out what they would like for Christmas. After it is all over I give them all a little gift and try to indicate that it is time for them to move on. Everyone gets the message except Mum. She looks more relaxed, to the extent that she doesn’t seem to want to leave the peacefulness of the Santa stage. She calls the kids back and tells them that she will help them open their presents. I start to worry that she is there for the duration but after fiddling around for some time she looks up to see a couple of new eager young faces at the gate of the stage. “Oh”, she says, “I suppose we had better be off.” I guess so. Merry Christmas and don’t worry, everything will be OK.
“Thanks Santa. Merry Christmas.” And they all slowly head out into the hustle and bustle of the real world.
Family groups like these were often great fun. One day, during a particularly quiet session in the Mitchell Centre, I was approached by a bare-footed, lightly tattooed, cheesecloth dressed mother and her three bare-footed, almost shaven headed, kids. After telling Santa how good they had been all year and what they wanted for Christmas, the kids proceeded to run riot around the stage with Santa's bell. All the while mum just stood there smiling proudly.
On another occasion a family of four young kids came in with their mother in tow. I remember thinking that there must have been about the same age difference as my own four and, like mine, they were three girls and a boy. I was immediately drawn to them.
As I set about arranging the seating, the two younger ones on my lap and one each on either side, I asked them generally – Well how are we all today?
From the oldest, who would have been no more than six, in a most serious tone, “To tell you the truth Santa, I’m very stressed.”
I looked at her and then at the others, even Mum, and they were all nodding in agreement. Before I had a chance to say anything she continued, “It’s just getting too much, what with the packing and the removalists and everything.” Oh, so you’re moving home are you?
“Yes.” Are you still going to be living in Darwin?
“No we’re moving to Coffs Harbour and it’s such a worry.” With a voice I hoped would sound incredulous - You’re moving to Coffs Harbour and you’re worried!
Suddenly there were five sets of eyes – including Mum’s - riveted on me. Without shifting her gaze, Mum sat down on the floor, crossed legged, and the young boy jumped off the knee so as to get a better look at Santa’s face. Oh shit, how the hell did I get into this! Oh well, here goes.
I know you are probably worried about leaving Darwin and all the friends you have here but, you know, I deliver presents to quite a lot of children in Coffs. They are really nice and I’m sure that when you get there you will make friends with many of them. It's a lovely place. It’s smaller than Darwin but there are plenty of things to do there. You can even swim in the ocean as there are no crocs.
From the young boy, “And no box jellyfish Santa?” No mate, no box jellyfish, and it’s not nearly as hot as it is here. The schools are great too. You’re going to have so much fun.
The smiles start to appear, “Do you really think so Santa.” I know so darling.
The stresses of life seem now to be dissolving so we are able to get on with sorting out what they would like for Christmas. After it is all over I give them all a little gift and try to indicate that it is time for them to move on. Everyone gets the message except Mum. She looks more relaxed, to the extent that she doesn’t seem to want to leave the peacefulness of the Santa stage. She calls the kids back and tells them that she will help them open their presents. I start to worry that she is there for the duration but after fiddling around for some time she looks up to see a couple of new eager young faces at the gate of the stage. “Oh”, she says, “I suppose we had better be off.” I guess so. Merry Christmas and don’t worry, everything will be OK.
“Thanks Santa. Merry Christmas.” And they all slowly head out into the hustle and bustle of the real world.
Family groups like these were often great fun. One day, during a particularly quiet session in the Mitchell Centre, I was approached by a bare-footed, lightly tattooed, cheesecloth dressed mother and her three bare-footed, almost shaven headed, kids. After telling Santa how good they had been all year and what they wanted for Christmas, the kids proceeded to run riot around the stage with Santa's bell. All the while mum just stood there smiling proudly.
Eventually, much to my relief, they left. However, later, on my way for a well-earned lunch break, I was waiting for a lift that would whisk me to my refuge in the basement. To my horror this little tribe of terrorists, or tribe of little terrorists - one or the other - came out of the supermarket and spotted me. The oldest, who was about six, raced over and informed me he was coming too.
"Oh no you're not," I said as the lift door suddenly opened.
"Oh yes I am," said he as he attempted to duck past me, "I'm allowed!"
Thank heavens for the extra padding. It must have been an imposing site, a large Santa, with thunder in his eyes and passion in his voice, guarding the lift door, "Oh no you're not! Go back to Mummy!"
With that I glanced down the aisle to see Mummy standing there watching with the same supercilious grin on her face that she had worn when her little bundles of joy were attempting to wreck Santa's stage. I quickly hit the basement button and stood there with arms outstretched (much like Moses when he parted the waters I suspect - only instead of a rod and staff I held a Santa bell and sack) until the doors had finally closed. My lingering vision was of this little face, under an almost shaven head, looking very disconsolate that someone had said "No!" to him.
At about 1 o'clock on the same day, three middle aged women walked past and gave Santa a cheery wave.
"We'll be back later" they called.
I had forgotten all about them until about 3.15 when they returned from their Christmas lunch - looking and sounding as if they'd had a really bonza time.
"Oh no you're not," I said as the lift door suddenly opened.
"Oh yes I am," said he as he attempted to duck past me, "I'm allowed!"
Thank heavens for the extra padding. It must have been an imposing site, a large Santa, with thunder in his eyes and passion in his voice, guarding the lift door, "Oh no you're not! Go back to Mummy!"
With that I glanced down the aisle to see Mummy standing there watching with the same supercilious grin on her face that she had worn when her little bundles of joy were attempting to wreck Santa's stage. I quickly hit the basement button and stood there with arms outstretched (much like Moses when he parted the waters I suspect - only instead of a rod and staff I held a Santa bell and sack) until the doors had finally closed. My lingering vision was of this little face, under an almost shaven head, looking very disconsolate that someone had said "No!" to him.
At about 1 o'clock on the same day, three middle aged women walked past and gave Santa a cheery wave.
"We'll be back later" they called.
I had forgotten all about them until about 3.15 when they returned from their Christmas lunch - looking and sounding as if they'd had a really bonza time.
With a few champagne-soaked giggles, they explained that they had needed a couple of drinks before getting the courage to ask Santa if they could be photographed with him. Fortunately, they had already decided on the seating arrangements and it was the littlest who draped herself around me while the other two snuggled up on either side. I gave a silent prayer that I would not breathe in sufficient fumes to give the impression to following little children that it was indeed Santa who had enjoyed lunch to the extreme.
There were also situations that brought a tear to the eye.
There were also situations that brought a tear to the eye.
There was the young girl who, one day, was working in the gift wrapping stall next to the Santa stage at Casuarina. It seemed to be a fund-raising stall for clubs and the like. Different clubs/schools would man the stall at different times of the day.
Once, while awaiting the arrival of the next toddler, I gave the volunteers a wave and a "Merry Christmas". With that the girl wandered over to the fence to check me out and see if I was the Santa she had seen at another place. We spoke for a short while. I didn't think much of it at the time but sometime later she appeared on the Santa set. As she sat down beside me she blurted out, "Do you know what I would really like for Christmas Santa?" No my dear what would you really like?
With eyes glistening she said, "I would really like my cousin to get better." Why, is she sick?
"Yes, she has cancer and the doctors don't know how long she has to live." Oh! I'm sorry darling. How old is she.
"She's only 18 and she works as a senior counsellor with Camp Quality." I'm so sorry but helping make people well is not one of Santa's specialties. I can only do what anyone else can and that is say a prayer for her - and I promise you I will. (Is that sweat rolling down my cheek?)
We chat along for a while longer. She is in grade 5 which would make her possibly 10 or 11 years old - she is quite mature for her age. She doesn't seem too keen to move on and as there is no-one waiting I don't try to push her. Finally she says, "Santa do you know what my Mum wants for Christmas?" No I don't, what does she want?
"I don't know, I was hoping you would be able to tell me." (I am getting more and more the feeling that there is no Dad and Santa is a surrogate.)
Once, while awaiting the arrival of the next toddler, I gave the volunteers a wave and a "Merry Christmas". With that the girl wandered over to the fence to check me out and see if I was the Santa she had seen at another place. We spoke for a short while. I didn't think much of it at the time but sometime later she appeared on the Santa set. As she sat down beside me she blurted out, "Do you know what I would really like for Christmas Santa?" No my dear what would you really like?
With eyes glistening she said, "I would really like my cousin to get better." Why, is she sick?
"Yes, she has cancer and the doctors don't know how long she has to live." Oh! I'm sorry darling. How old is she.
"She's only 18 and she works as a senior counsellor with Camp Quality." I'm so sorry but helping make people well is not one of Santa's specialties. I can only do what anyone else can and that is say a prayer for her - and I promise you I will. (Is that sweat rolling down my cheek?)
We chat along for a while longer. She is in grade 5 which would make her possibly 10 or 11 years old - she is quite mature for her age. She doesn't seem too keen to move on and as there is no-one waiting I don't try to push her. Finally she says, "Santa do you know what my Mum wants for Christmas?" No I don't, what does she want?
"I don't know, I was hoping you would be able to tell me." (I am getting more and more the feeling that there is no Dad and Santa is a surrogate.)
Because I don't know your mum and have no idea of her likes and dislikes I'm afraid I could not even guess what you could get her. Do you have any feeling yourself as to what would make her happy?
"I was thinking about giving her flowers." (How do I handle this one? Well here goes -) Flowers are a very special present reserved for someone you love very much. If you really love your mum and she loves you, I can think of no better present. Do you love her that much? "Yes Santa and thanks, that's what I will get her."
"I was thinking about giving her flowers." (How do I handle this one? Well here goes -) Flowers are a very special present reserved for someone you love very much. If you really love your mum and she loves you, I can think of no better present. Do you love her that much? "Yes Santa and thanks, that's what I will get her."
Here darling, all I have to offer you are some crayons that I normally give to the little children. I usually ask them to draw a picture of Santa and leave it out for him on Christmas night. One packet is for you and one for your cousin. They are a present with love from Santa. Merry Christmas.
"Thank you Santa and Merry Christmas." (I must be hot! There are still more droplets rolling down my cheek.)
On yet another occasion, I had this young boy and girl, brother and sister aged about 7 and 4 respectively. We had a lovely chat and when we finished, I gave them each their little gift to send them on their way. As I did so I heard a loud "Yahoo" from outside the stage area. I looked around to see a young fellow about the same age as the boy I had just been speaking to laughing at him for talking to Santa. I could see that they knew each other and also the discomfort on the face of the boy with me so I strode up to the fence and in my sternest Santa voice said, "You! I want to speak to you. In here."
The brazen look quickly faded and he said, "What about?" I just want to have a chat. OK!
"I've got to go and do something first" he said and he scurried off. (Ha ha! I certainly fixed that little bully.)
About ten minutes later I got quite a shock when the young fella plonked himself down beside me and said "Well, here I am Santa, what did you want to talk about?" I just wanted you to tell me what you wanted for Christmas.
He looked pretty surprised but told me all about the Game Boy game he was hoping to get. We chatted on for a little while and then the inquisition started. It went on for five minutes or more.
"Are you magic?” - No
"Did Jesus make you when he lived on earth?" Ah - yes!
"Your home at the North Pole, is it visible?" Ah - yes, but only to those who believe in Santa.
"How old are you?" Ah - Mother Christmas and I were only discussing that the other day and I worked out that I could remember 365 Christmases. (I'm glad I learnt that at Santa school and that he didn't catch on to the time discrepancy between that answer and the one about Jesus making Santa.)
“Isn't Christmas all about the birth of Jesus?" Yes. Santa is only here to help celebrate that event.
"Has anyone ever seen your teeth?" Ah - yes when I have a shave. (Look of dismay on the boy's face. Oh shit! Wrong answer.) Only did it once to make sure it was nice and fresh the next year. (Boy doesn't seem too impressed but lets it go through to the keeper.)
"Can I touch your beard?" Of course.
"What would happen if I pulled it?" Ah - it would hurt! (And on and on it went - until the lead up to the big ones.)
"Why do all the boys and girls have to be asleep when you come with their presents?" Ah - well if any were awake Santa would have to stop and talk to them and he would never be able to get around to everyone.
"Now tell me Santa, how could you possibly deliver presents to every boy and girl in the world in one night?" (Panic! How do I answer that one? Then, as if he really, really wanted to believe - ) "Are hours like seconds to you?" Aah - Something like that. It's all a part of the Magic of Christmas!
"Thank you Santa and Merry Christmas." (I must be hot! There are still more droplets rolling down my cheek.)
On yet another occasion, I had this young boy and girl, brother and sister aged about 7 and 4 respectively. We had a lovely chat and when we finished, I gave them each their little gift to send them on their way. As I did so I heard a loud "Yahoo" from outside the stage area. I looked around to see a young fellow about the same age as the boy I had just been speaking to laughing at him for talking to Santa. I could see that they knew each other and also the discomfort on the face of the boy with me so I strode up to the fence and in my sternest Santa voice said, "You! I want to speak to you. In here."
The brazen look quickly faded and he said, "What about?" I just want to have a chat. OK!
"I've got to go and do something first" he said and he scurried off. (Ha ha! I certainly fixed that little bully.)
About ten minutes later I got quite a shock when the young fella plonked himself down beside me and said "Well, here I am Santa, what did you want to talk about?" I just wanted you to tell me what you wanted for Christmas.
He looked pretty surprised but told me all about the Game Boy game he was hoping to get. We chatted on for a little while and then the inquisition started. It went on for five minutes or more.
"Are you magic?” - No
"Did Jesus make you when he lived on earth?" Ah - yes!
"Your home at the North Pole, is it visible?" Ah - yes, but only to those who believe in Santa.
"How old are you?" Ah - Mother Christmas and I were only discussing that the other day and I worked out that I could remember 365 Christmases. (I'm glad I learnt that at Santa school and that he didn't catch on to the time discrepancy between that answer and the one about Jesus making Santa.)
“Isn't Christmas all about the birth of Jesus?" Yes. Santa is only here to help celebrate that event.
"Has anyone ever seen your teeth?" Ah - yes when I have a shave. (Look of dismay on the boy's face. Oh shit! Wrong answer.) Only did it once to make sure it was nice and fresh the next year. (Boy doesn't seem too impressed but lets it go through to the keeper.)
"Can I touch your beard?" Of course.
"What would happen if I pulled it?" Ah - it would hurt! (And on and on it went - until the lead up to the big ones.)
"Why do all the boys and girls have to be asleep when you come with their presents?" Ah - well if any were awake Santa would have to stop and talk to them and he would never be able to get around to everyone.
"Now tell me Santa, how could you possibly deliver presents to every boy and girl in the world in one night?" (Panic! How do I answer that one? Then, as if he really, really wanted to believe - ) "Are hours like seconds to you?" Aah - Something like that. It's all a part of the Magic of Christmas!
Anyway young man, there are others waiting so you had better be off. Have a Merry Christmas mate. (And to myself as he bade farewell and wandered off, maybe, just maybe you've won yourself one more shot at that Magic.)
Merry Christmas all and, in the words of Francis Pharcellus Church when in 1897 he responded to a letter on the subject from eight year old Virginia O’Hanlon saying, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias."
Merry Christmas all and, in the words of Francis Pharcellus Church when in 1897 he responded to a letter on the subject from eight year old Virginia O’Hanlon saying, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias."