Santa was holding court in the living room. Fresh from his early rounds, he entertained the children gathered at his feet. The jolly old fellow was looking as trim and youthful as a twenty-year old, no doubt a testament to good living and the fresh, arctic air.
“How about we sing a few Christmas carols?” he bellowed. The kids joined in for a verse or two before the limits of memory throttled the volume down to a mumble. Then it was time for the payout. Santa reached into his big, green bag and began withdrawing the litany of presents. As he read each name, an appropriately paired child ran up and positioned him- or herself on Santa’s lap with approaches that varied from cautious suspicion to enthusiastic abandon.
Then it struck me: Santa is always giving; but what’s in it for him? Present after present goes out, but what does he get? At the very least, there should be milk and cookies. Or would he prefer to wait until the midnight visit for snacks?
Whatever the case, this seemed to be a teachable moment. Kids should be tuned into giving back, paying forward or just sharing generously. Seizing the day, or evening as it were, I disappeared into the dining room and fetched a cookie, placing it on a seasonally decorated paper plate. Now, what would be the best delivery? The idea was to get the kids engaged in this behavior, not a parent.
I headed through the outer clustering of parents and adult children and sat with Santa to my left and my grandson conveniently on my right. Leaning toward him, I said, “Alex, why don’t you give something to Santa? Here’s a cookie you can give him.” With the plot thusly set, I sat back to watch.
Alex waited until Santa had released the child currently enraptured on his lap. As he reached into his bag again, Alex jumped up, presented his plate and said, “Here! This is for you!” Santa was clearly surprised, not to mention unprepared for this outburst of kindness.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever had someone give me a cookie before! It looks very good. I’ll just have a bite and … .” It was at this point that the “teachable moment” affair started to come apart. Santa struggled to get the deep-fried, sugar powdered cookie into his mouth. His white moustache and beard were so tightly connected that the star-pointed shape snagged repeatedly and well ahead of his lips. Such a small mouth appeared contrary to his legendary size but did suggest an explanation for his trim appearance tonight. Meanwhile, the cookie began breaking off, with golden bits landing here and there in his beard like hatchlings in a nest.
Santa’s revering audience began to laugh at his frustrated efforts. Flashes fired from cameras, capturing the bespeckled beard. It occurred to me that I was neither enhancing Santa’s image nor demonstrating the blissful rewards of generous action. I racked my brain to find a graceful solution to Santa’s dilemma, leaving myself only racked. My survival instinct was prompting me to look toward the exits when Santa ceased his wrestling and announced, “I think I’ll save this for later.” He brushed his beard, failing to dislodge the cookie crumbs nesting in his beard. “Zoe! Is Zoe here?”
With a film director’s concern for scene and setting, I watched Santa entertain the remaining kids. Each camera flash reminded me that the parent’s digital memory would show Santa as a rather messy eater. I could only hope they were all skilled in Photoshop.
Finishing his appointed task, Santa up-ended his bag to demonstrate a job well done. He led the group in one last Christmas carol, waved goodbye, and then remembered his present. “Oh yea, thanks for the cookie!” He grabbed the plate, folded it in half over the intransigent cookie, and managed to open the door with both hands occupied. As Santa escaped out the side door of the living room, I utilized the distraction to make my way through the surrounding crowd. Looking back from the safe haven of the kitchen, I saw Santa making his last wave. Children turned their attention to their new toys. Parents started conversation in small groups. I came to a new appreciation of the time-honored traditions of Christmas, resolving to leave them unaltered.