Being Santa Claus : What I Learned About the True Meaning of Christmas (9781101600528) (11 page)

But as I drove home from the mall, despite the glow from my first day as what I considered a bona fide professional Santa, I had a nagging feeling that something was wrong with the entire setup. The pressure of having to hurry children along through their encounter with Santa didn’t seem right to me. Santa Claus’s whole world revolved around interacting with children and making them happy, not rushing kids through a line in order to make more money.

There had to be a way, I mused, to be a successful mall Santa and still give children all the attention and love they deserved. How could I make the experience even better for the kids who came to see me? And then I chuckled to myself. I knew exactly where to turn for inspiration.

What would Santa do?

As it happened, I’d have plenty more chances to find out.

THE THREE-YEAR-OLD WHO STOOD NOT THREE
feet from my Santa chair was screeching. Not in excitement, mind you—in holy terror. Her mother, likely exhausted from a long day of holiday shopping, tried
pleading, cajoling, and finally scolding the child for not cooperating. “We need this for your Christmas card, Ava!” She turned to me and said, defeated, “Just grab her so we can get a picture, okay?”

The Photo Promotions manager nodded and silently motioned for me to do it so we could move the line along. They had a business to run, and I fully appreciated that. But I wasn’t in the business of traumatizing kids for the sake of selling a snapshot. The children
must
come first, and Santa Claus would know this.

What would Santa do?

I looked down into the eyes of this frightened little girl, and the answer was right there, plain as day. I could only imagine how intimidating I must have looked to this itty-bitty child, looming from that humongous throne. So I did the unthinkable. I got up out of my Santa chair and sat down on the floor in front of her. Scandalous! A mall Santa does not get out of his chair, except when he heads off to check on the reindeer (in other words, take a break). The photographer was furious, as he had to completely reset his camera and tripod to take a picture of us far below where he had so perfectly framed the shot. But in my heart, I knew Santa wouldn’t let something like that stop him. He would do whatever he needed to do in order to comfort a frightened child.

It worked. Ava calmed down and actually giggled, seeing Santa plopped on the floor. Although the managers
and photographers weren’t too pleased with this stunt, it turned Ava’s experience with me into a happy one, and that’s what mattered.

Over the years, I’ve given a lot of thought to what frightens children when they see Santa Claus. Imagine it for a moment from their perspective. Santa, they know, is very powerful. He is the giver of toys. And if you think about it, the most important thing to children, after love, is their toys. He decides whether you’ve been naughty or nice, and how many toys you’ll get as a result. That’s a lot of power for one person to have! And no one seems to question his authority.

But the awe and intimidation don’t end there. As a young child walking into a large mall, everything about Santa and the elaborate North Pole Village is regal. He sits up on a grand throne, wearing plush velvet with helpers all around him. Meeting Santa, for a child, would feel like meeting a king.

After waiting in a long line for their audience with this important, imposing figure, children find themselves marched unceremoniously up onto a raised platform to meet this “king of toys.” The child gets placed, all alone, on the lap of this great icon (who, really, is a total stranger to them), and then is expected to make his or her plea for gifts. I don’t know about you, but all this feels a little intimidating even to me—
and I’m the one who plays Santa Claus
!

Understanding and appreciating this made all the
difference for me as a professional Santa, especially when I experienced the one thing that happens to every Santa Claus. That’s right: he gets peed on. A child sits down on your lap. You give a hearty “Ho, ho, ho!” and ask if he or she has anything special to tell Santa this year. Suddenly, you feel a warm sensation slowly spread across your upper thigh, and you immediately know what’s happened. And so does the child.

Now, the immediate instinct might be to jump up, but I realized early on that a child feels mortified enough already. Imagine: he or she has probably only recently been potty trained, and now here they are disappointing their mom and dad in front of hundreds of strangers. And on the lap of the great and powerful Santa Claus himself, no less!

What would Santa do?

Santa would never, ever blame a child, because Santa understands it’s not the child’s fault. Santa’s been around a long time, and he’s seen many, many children. He knows that some of them find meeting him to be a stressful experience. Sometimes I can feel these poor frightened children actually trembling, and often all it takes is a simple “Hello there” from me to push the scared youngsters over the edge, and then they suddenly have an accident.

I would always explain to my helpers that if I gave them a nod while a child was sitting on my lap, it meant
they should bring me a small handful of folded up paper towels. I’d inconspicuously blot my thigh and the helpers would immediately turn on the fan to help dry the wet leg. A spritz of fabric freshener would usually hold me over until I could change into my backup suit, which I always have on hand.

Realizing that Santa Claus would put the well-being of a child as his top priority, I always make certain to let the parents know what happened, but without embarrassing the child. After all, most parents have had experience with accidents before and are prepared to deal with them so their child isn’t uncomfortable for long. So I wait for Mom or Dad to come over to get their son or daughter, and I’ll say to the child, “Let me tell your mom something real quick.” Then I quietly inform the parent, “I didn’t want to embarrass your child, but I think they just had an accident. It’s no big deal, but I thought you should know.” The parents I’ve delivered this news to always seem to appreciate the discretion.

I remember once seeing a long line of children waiting to meet me as Santa, but suddenly no one came up to sit on my lap. I looked over but couldn’t quite see what was happening. Finally, one of my helpers walked up to me and said, “Santa, there’s a little girl in line named Stacy, and she’s very upset.”

“Oh, really?” I felt concerned. “Why?”

“Well, she’s been waiting a while, and she was getting
ready to come up to see you. But she got so excited, she wet herself. And she thinks you’re going to be mad at her.”

“Well, you assure Stacy that Santa doesn’t get angry at
any
child, and I would love to meet her.”

So when she came up, I said, “Hello there, Stacy.”

“Hello,” she said in a very soft and worried voice.

I didn’t want to point out the accident directly. So instead, I got up from my chair, kneeled down next to her, and whispered in her ear, “Your mom wants to get a picture of you with Santa, doesn’t she?”

Stacy nodded with a small frown, her lower lip quivering.

I smiled at her and continued whispering, “Stacy, I know you don’t want to sit on my lap, but you know what? I’m going to go ahead and stand you up here with me, and I’m going to put my arm around you in such a way that nobody can see that,” and I nodded my head toward her wet spot. “And you and I are going to take the best Christmas picture ever. Will that be okay?”

Stacy gave a tiny nod. So as I kneeled down beside her, with our heads at the same level, I put my arm around her waist so that my sleeve draped itself over the wet stain. When Stacy saw what I was doing, I whispered again, “See? Nobody will ever know. It’s just our little secret, and now you’ll be able to show this photo to all of your friends and family.”

Stacy smiled, and we took the picture.

Afterward, Stacy began to walk down off of the raised platform. Then she suddenly turned around, ran back toward me, and flung herself into my arms, squeezing me in a tight hug. With her face pressed next to mine and her mouth next to my ear, she said in a whisper, “Thank you, Santa.”

Santa understands…accidents happen.

I’VE LEARNED THAT NOW AND THEN SANTA
needs to get a little creative in the spirit of keeping Christmas spirits bright.

Malls, as we all know, can be high-stress zones during Christmastime. There are big crowds and lots of hustle and bustle, and of course, long lines…especially to see Santa Claus. During the height of the season, some people stand in line for hours waiting to visit with Santa, and my heart always goes out to them. Parents try to keep their squirming little ones entertained, but even the most patient of children can stand up quietly for only so long. Tensions usually run high as people’s patience wanes, and I always wished I could do something to extend a little Christmas cheer to these intrepid folks.
Hmmm…

What would Santa do?

One of the rules of being a mall Santa is usually that
Santa Claus can’t be in the North Pole Village while he’s on his break. It makes sense: when Santa goes on break, so do his helpers. And if Santa stayed on the set, the helpers would need to stay, as well, in order to keep the crowd under control. But I realized this didn’t mean that Santa couldn’t be out and about
just outside
the North Pole Village, chatting with people in line to keep their spirits up while they waited, now did it?

One year, while I was a Santa-in-residence for the entire Christmas season at a mall in New Hampshire, I decided to give it a try. I took my usual lunch break in the hidden storeroom they kept private for me, but I came out a little earlier than I was expected. I casually wandered over to greet a few of the children in line, hoping no one from the photo company would stop me.

“Are you having a good time at the mall today?” I asked one of the little girls. “That hot dog looks delicious!” I said to another boy.

Before I knew it, I had stopped to have short conversations with scores of different families. A few asked to take their picture with me while they waited, but I gently let them know that I was only supposed to take pictures on the set. Most people accepted that and didn’t press the issue.

To my relief, the photo staff seemed perfectly okay with my having these conversations. I suppose, as long as I didn’t enter the set itself and didn’t leave the mall, they had no problem with a social Santa.

I thought about how frustrated parents and children must feel to be standing in line for forty-five minutes or longer to see Santa, only to be told that Santa would be back in another hour. And of course, parents and their children had to wait around or else they would lose their place in line. So as the days went on, I made it my common practice to eat my lunches and dinners as quickly as I could and then come out to chat with people—both children and adults—always in character as Santa Claus.

But when I looked over at all those people standing farther back in line who could only watch as Santa chatted with other children and parents in line in front of them, I felt guilty. No matter how brief I made my conversations with people, I couldn’t get to everyone before my break ended. I imagined how disappointed the children would feel if they were the ones standing too far away from Santa Claus.

Hmmm…

If Santa can’t make any circumstance merry, then I don’t know who can. So I raised my voice a little to get the attention of the few dozen people in my immediate area: “Hey, who here knows the song ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’?” Of course, everybody did. “Would you all like to sing that song with Santa?”

A cacophony of excited children yelling “Yeah!” enveloped me. So I started singing, and I found myself immediately joined by a chorus of children and their
parents. As the song went on, the singing got louder and louder. Before I knew it, I could hear many more voices singing than just those few dozen who had started. I looked around and noticed the song spreading up and down the entire line.

By the time the song ended, we must have had hundreds of voices joining in. I didn’t want to lose the momentum and enthusiasm of the crowd, so I immediately began singing “Frosty the Snowman,” and nearly everyone in line waiting for Santa started singing along again. I could feel the mood of the whole crowd lifting as the songs jollied their stress away.