KALEIDOSCOPE

My children, now adults, still expect to see that Santa filled their stockings when they get up on Christmas morning.  Silly? Maybe.  I tried, one year, after they had both graduated from college to stop the practice of filling Christmas stockings.  They were appalled and upset.  I guess I tried too hard to keep them believing in Santa.

One year, when they were at the age where they had decided that Mom and Dad were Santa, the behavior of both my boys was completely uncivilized and unacceptable.  The age old threat, “If you’re not good, Santa won’t stop here this year,” was given the response, “Oh, Mom, you’re Santa.”  Little did they realize that I had the power to keep them believing in Santa.

A friend of mine at work played Santa for one of the area shopping malls; it just happened to be the mall where we always shopped.  One afternoon, after plotting with him, I took my boys to see Santa.  They impatiently stood in line with complaints about the fact that I was Santa.  I told them to play along for all the other little boys and girls who still actually still believed.

As the little boy in front of us got off Santa’s lap, Santa looked at my son.  “David, I hear you’ve been giving your mom some trouble and you’ve been picking on your brother.  Why don’t you come up here and talk to me?”

The mouths of both my boys dropped and they looked at me.  As a mom, I just gave them that “I know what I’m talking about” look and urged them to go up and talk to Santa.  They were good as gold for the rest of the holiday season, and it took a few more years for them to be sure who “played” Santa.