Whenever a crowd forms around Santa, I pretend he’s not my husband. Children waiting in line to meet him should never hear us talking about the laundry, my job, his day job or our kids. When he puts on his Santa suit, everyone around him — including me — feels the magic.
For the past eight years, right after Thanksgiving through December 23, he becomes Santa, or in his own words: “the fat guy in a red suit.”
Children gather around him even when he’s out of uniform. A few days ago on line at a local grocery store, a handful of children stared and pointed at his fluffy white beard. Their mothers told him they think he’s Santa.
When he first got the gig, he wore a fake beard. He prefers his real beard because it stays on when children tug on it. I think adults see the resemblance, too. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt in the summer, they shout, “Hey Santa” when he passes by.
I’ve slipped up a few times and said, “Yes. It’s him. He’s Santa.” My husband has a rule: When he wears the uniform, he’s Santa, and when he’s in street clothes, he’s my husband. I must keep both identities separate, especially around children. It took me a while to understand why.
My husband has a rule: When he wears the uniform, he’s Santa, and when he’s in street clothes, he’s my husband. I must keep both identities separate.
When I invited my neighbor to bring her grandkids to see him, I erred and mentioned his name. My neighbor gave me a stern glance and whispered that her grandchildren, ages 5 and 7, still believe. So now, I refrain from mixing the two.
Wearing the suit transforms him. He feels the energy of the children who come to see him. Most tell him what they want for Christmas. He hears stories that make him laugh and ones that bring tears to his eyes. He shares many of the stories with me when he arrives home.
Most children request toys. When they ask for expensive items, he glances at the parents to see if they nod before making any promises. Some children surprise him. A 5-year-old girl talked about COVID keeping extended family members away and hoped this year would be different. She missed her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.
He told me she said, “Christmas isn’t about presents. I don’t think it matters what you give somebody or what you get. That’s not important. Christmas is about spending time with family and friends, sharing a nice meal, and being together.”
She repeated she didn’t want any gifts and then took a breath and said, “If you do have any extra gifts in your sled …” That’s when he thought, “OK, here it comes. She’s going to ask me to drop those toys at her house.”
She said, “If you have any extra gifts, can you make sure they go to an orphanage?”
He promised he would and witnessed her proud parents looking on.
The most popular question he gets every year is “What is your favorite cookie?” Parents and children leave out cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve. He always answers, “round.”
For the ones who want a definitive answer, he mentions my chocolate chip cookie recipe. “It’s special because Mrs. Claus adds cinnamon,” he says.
Food is a big topic. Some children ask about treats for the reindeer. “Most think reindeer love carrots,” he says. “They do, but you know what they like even more than carrots? Parsnips.”
“Most of the kids never heard of parsnips,” he told me. “Some of their parents have never eaten a parsnip. I tell them to peel them just like they do with carrots and lightly stir-fry them in butter sauce with a little salt and pepper.”
For those who leave out parsnips, he tells them to make sure they’re raw because that’s what the reindeer prefer. He loves that children care about his reindeer and when they ask where he parked his sled he points to the nearby woods and tells them the reindeer are busy playing their reindeer games.
Children tell him about their pets and he tells them stories about the reindeer, like the time I purchased coconut-scented shampoo. He told the kids the reindeer nibbled on his hair and beard. He wears his hat to cover the bald patches and I no longer purchase coconut-scented shampoo.
Sharing stories with children is his favorite part of each visit. What troubles him are the parents who threaten their children with the familiar line: “If you don’t behave, Santa will bring you coal.” When he hears that, he shouts back, “I don’t do coal anymore; it’s not environmentally sound.”
It baffles some parents and most of them laugh. He appreciates when parents participate. They’ll whisper the names of their children when they’re not looking. One dad quickly flashed his kids’ names on his cellphone. When one child asked Santa how he knew his name, his older sister said Santa has a crystal ball that lets him know.
It’s a joy watching him as Santa. My youngest son and I visit the venue every year to get our photo taken with him. Our son knows the rule: That’s Santa, not dad.
At the end of the evening, we usually walk out together and always keep the conversation focused on the holiday because a crowd is always present. They want to talk to him, too. We never let on for fear it will disappoint those who believe.
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