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

by Lizard, Sal; Lane, Jonathan

  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 man
y 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.

  With an entire line of hundreds of people all singing at the same time, I didn’t think the experience could grow any more amazing. But it did. As the line of people in front of me sang “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town,” I suddenly heard singing coming from above me, as well. I looked up and saw a few customers starting to come out of the shops and join in, and then even more customers. It seemed, for just a moment, that the entire mall had transformed into one giant Christmas choir.

  We sang a few more songs, and then the time came for Santa to get back to work. Everyone applauded each other before returning to the stores and continuing with their shopping. They all seemed to have a little extra spring in their step, buoyed by this collective magical Christmas moment.

  So from that day on, I would make certain to eat my lunch quickly and come out to chat and sing with the crowd. Twice a day, every day, the entire mall would erupt in joyous voices singing, and waiting in line for a photo with Santa didn’t seem quite as tedious. As for me, I loved every second of it.

  AFTER A FEW YEARS OF BEING A SANTA IN VARious malls, my techniques became rather well-known by many parents. Some even recognized me when they saw me from the line or brought their child up for a picture and would say, “Oh, I’m so glad it’s you again! You’re really good!”

  I’m just doing what Santa would do, I’d think to myself and smile.

  EIGHT

  Santa’s Giggles, Gear, and Gadgets

  BEING SANTA CLAUS HAS GOT TO BE THE BEST job in the world. I get to spend two months out of the year hearing children’s secret wishes and their pint-size pearls of wisdom. Some of my most treasured memories are the chuckles I’ve gotten from kids just being open and honest. I never know what they’ll say or do next.

  I remember once standing in the checkout line at a department store (in non-Santa clothing) when a little girl around four years old came over to me and asked sheepishly, “What’s your name?”

  I looked over at her mom who was standing a few feet away, and she nodded her approval. So I bent down and replied, “Honey, who do you think I am?”

  “I think you’re Santa,” she said.

  “Well,” I said and grinned. “Then you’d better be really good.”

  Her face lit up with pride. “Oh, I am!” she said and smiled broadly. “I’m not even peeing in my underpants right now!”

  Yes, kids will say pretty much anything to Santa, much to the embarrassment of many parents I’ve met. One Christmas season as a mall Santa, I had a little girl of about six sit down and ask me, “Do you ever spank naughty girls?”

  I’m sure a look of shock came through in the surprised expression on my face. This was a new one for me. “Absolutely not, sweetie,” I said. “Santa would never spank a child. Why, did someone tell you that you needed a spanking?”

  She took a big breath the way young children do when they’re about to tell you an important story with lots of details. “Well, one time I got up in the night to get a drink of water, and I saw Daddy dressed up like you. He asked Mommy if she’d been naughty or nice, and Mommy said that she’d been naughty. So Daddy said that if she was naughty, then he was going to have to spank her. And then Mommy said she liked when Daddy spanked her.”

  Oh, boy, I thought, fighting back a smile. I looked up at her parents, who suddenly realized the story their daughter was spilling to Santa. The girl’s poor mother was burying her head in her husband’s chest, trying to cover her face with her hands. The father, meanwhile, winced and turned bright red.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” I said, masking a chuckle. “Sometimes, sweetheart, daddies dress up as Santa, but they don’t always get it exactly right. It takes a lot of practice. It sounds like your mommy and daddy were just playing a game. I think the next time you see something like that, you should probably just go back to bed.” And with a reassuring smile and a wink, I said in the parents’ direction, “And hopefully Mommy and Daddy will learn to play Santa Claus better next year.”

  At another mall appearance, I had a series of children come up one after the other, each concerned about my weight and health. I learned later that they were all part of the same first grade class and had just finished a unit on nutrition. The first one, a little girl, had two cookies with her. She handed me one and kept the other for herself, saying, “This cookie is for you, Santa. It’s sugar-free because I don’t want you to get diet Wheaties.”

  The next child, a little boy, asked me, “Do you ever get stuck in chimneys?”

  Then a little girl inquired, “Do you know what your cholesterol level is?”

  Finally, a boy looked me up and down and asked me with a straight face, “Santa, did you ever think of giving yourself a gym membership for Christmas?”

  But perhaps my most treasured memory didn’t make me laugh so much as simply melt my heart. Children usually meander at a normal pace up to my chair to meet me, generally with a parent holding their hand. But one little girl, probably about four years old, came running up to me at full speed in a mall in Massachusetts. Before I could even react, she catapulted up onto my lap, threw her arms around my neck, and started hugging me. So I hugged her back. After half a minute or so, I let go, assuming she would turn around and start talking to Santa, as most kids tended to do.

  But she didn’t stop hugging me.

  I gave her another little hug and let go again. She still continued to hug me, very tightly. By this point, the girl’s mother had walked up to the big chair, watching all this with a wide grin on her face. I smiled back and said, rather amusedly, “She’s not letting go!”

  Her mother continued smiling. “She loves you, Santa. As a matter of fact, when I asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she told me that she just wanted to hug Santa. So I asked her what she wanted Santa to bring her for Christmas, and she said she didn’t know. She just wanted to hug Santa. That’s all she kept saying; she just wanted to hug Santa.”

  That left me at a loss for words. After another minute or so, I asked the little girl, “So, is there anything special you want to tell Santa Claus?”

  And she kept right on hugging me, without saying anything.

  Another minute passed, and I said to her mother in an apologetic tone, “I don’t know how we’re going to get the picture.”

  Without missing a beat, the mother said, “Honey, turn around for the picture.” The little girl immediately let go of my neck, spun around on my lap, and leaned against me so the photographer could snap the picture. Then, right after the flash went off, she resumed her determined embrace.

  Despite my multiple attempts to start a conversation with her, this little girl never uttered a single word. Eventually her mother said, “Okay, honey, let’s go.”

  With that, the little girl hopped off my lap. As she began walking down the carpet, she suddenly stopped, turned to face me, and said, “I love you, Santa.” Then she turned back around and tottered off with her mother.

  As I watched the two of them walk away, I thought to myself, as I have hundreds of times since, Yes, indeed…I definitely have the most wonderful job in the world.

  BESIDES BEING GOOD FOR THE SOUL, BEING Santa is downright fun. My research is toys, for goodness’ sake!

  Santa Claus needs to be the ultimate expert on toys, after all, so I do lots of research. A child might come up and ask me for a perennial favorite like an American Girl doll, of which there are many kinds. I’ll nod and say, “Which one?” Imagine the look on a little girl’s face when I suggest that she might want Molly, who has brown hair just like she does, or
Julie, who is from San Francisco where the little girl lives, or whichever new doll just came out that year. Sure, many boys want the ever-popular Optimus Prime Transformers action figure, but I need to be just as knowledgeable about Bumblebee, Wheeljack, or Starscream (just to name a few), in case I get a rogue request. I’ve also done my homework on the classics and know lots about the history of favorites like Barbie, G.I. Joe, and Slinky, which never fails to amaze my young visitors.

  In order to keep my expert status, I constantly read up on the hot new toys online and subscribe to every toy catalog you can imagine. Throughout the year, I’ll slip into the toy departments at Target, Walmart, or the big toy stores like Toys“R”Us to see what’s front and center on the shelves. I try to do these visits on the sly, early in the morning or late at night, so the children don’t see me.

  A couple of times during the year, however, I go to the toy stores during the daytime to get an idea of what children really like, straight from the source. While I’m there—especially if it’s near Christmastime—the kids inevitably mob me, even though I’m dressed in regular clothes. The funny thing is that many of them see it as an impromptu opportunity to put in their requests. I can’t tell you how many times a child has walked up to me in the toy aisle, held up something they’re excited about, and said matter-of-factly, “I want this one!”

  THEN YOU HAVE ALL THE FUN BELLS AND WHIStles that go along with being Santa. As both a techie and an actor, I get a real kick out of the Santa Claus gear, starting with the most important piece of all: the red suit.