Every year for Christmas eve one lucky member of my family gets to dress up in the oversized Santa costume, beard, moustache, spectacles, and all. I was that lucky member this year.
After we got back from watching the Christmas pageant at my grandmas church I went into the master bedroom and dragged out the musty Santa costume hidden in the closet. I swear that thing must have been like a triple XL and it seemed like mo matter how may oversized pillows I stuffed in the pants they still kept falling down! Once I found out that I should probably just go get a belt to hold them up I was rolling. Within 5 minutes I was unrecognizable under layers and layers of red and white. I grabbed my bag of presents and headed out into the yard.
My grandma has a pretty large yard, but the thing I think that makes her yard so big is that basically every room in her house has a door leading either to the front yard or the back. That works really well so that if I walk out the master bedroom door and wander around some I can make my way over to the door leading into the living room, full of anxious kids waiting for the arrival of Santa. Making my way over to the door I shake my jingle bells to signify my arrival. The kids go crazy. Running to the glass door they press their sweaty faces up against the glass door, leaving little nose marks on the layer of condensation from their breath. They are so exited, they can't wait, they pull the door open, and I walk in.
"Santa!" "Santa!" I hear shouted at me. I keep calm and make sure a steady stream of HoHoHos flow from my mouth. I trudge through the layer of children and plop myself onto the prepared chair in front of the couch. Someone shouts out- "Where are the presents Santa?" I say- "HoHoHo I almost forgot!" but what I'm thinking is, come one, seriously, I just rode on a freaking sleigh over here from the North Pole and all you can do is ask for presents? Really? Wow. The saddest part was that he was probably like 35 years old. Ha. I'm being asked for presents by a 35 year old.
I pull out my bag of little trinkets and toys wrapped in cheesy reindeer print and read the name of the first present. "Steve," I say then my eyes scan the crowd searching for him as he makes his way to me. Steve is my uncle. He's the35 year old I was mentioning. He plops himself on my lap with no thought to the fact that my leg might be breaking, and hugs me. What can I do? I smile under my layer of fake beard and hug him back. He walks off with his present and I call out he next name.
"Bill," he is my other uncle. He walks up receives his present, gives me a hug and walks back to his spot. The name calling and present distribution continues uneventful until I call out the name of my eleven year old brother, John.
"Hi Sara," he mutters under his breath and I frown at him. Party-pooper. I hand him his present and he agonizingly tries to escape having to hug me, but what can I say? I would do the same thing. Eventually he bends over and hugs me without much enthusiasm and then, making sure no one sees, slaps me across the face. I really want to slap him back, but what will the little kids think of a Santa who slaps people? Oh well I'll get him once I'm out of this sweaty costume.
"Hey Santa? Do you want a cookie?"
"Sure I'd love a cookie! But don't even think about cheating me out here! I want the biggest one you got!"
Everyone laughs and someone runs off to grab a cookie. They bring me a cookie and I graciously thank them. Next thing you know Im on my way out the door when one of my younger cousins tugs on my shirt. She asks-
"Hey Santa- can I see the reindeer?" Oh no now I am in trouble.
"Well, HoHoHo little girl! You sure are curious aren't you! I'm sorry but I parked them on the roof, and I doubt that you will be able to see them. I would bring them down, but," I pointed at my imaginary watch, "I've got a tight schedule to keep!" She smiles and I know I have somehow said the right thing.
"HoHoHo! Merry Christmas everyone! See you next year!" I smiled, waved and left.
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