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“Aw,” I say, “I thought you were going to say no on purpose. You’re no fun.”
She’s saved from having to reply by Carly coming back. “For your firm manly butt,” Carly says, waving a cushion at me.
“Ah, thanks, I’ve already lost the feeling in both legs.” I take the cushion and sit on it. “That’s better.”
“Are you ready to get started?” Missie asks. “There’s already a queue forming outside.”
I sigh. “Might as well get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit,” she says, and goes outside to bring in the kids.
It’s the first time I’ve played Santa, and I haven’t spent much time around young children, so I don’t really know what to expect. I’m anticipating either spoiled young brats or rude pre-teens like Dudley Dursley from the Harry Potter movies, and I’m sure I’m going to regret offering to help by 11:05.
To my surprise, ninety-nine percent of the kids are a lot of fun. Missie deals adeptly with any who are problematic, scolding them and telling them they won’t get any presents if they don’t behave. They soon calm down when I tell them that if they’re good, they can fuss up Zelda for a few minutes.
I thought they were all going to ask for PlayStations and other expensive gifts, but although some do ask for phones or computers, most of them talk about small toys that hold meaning for them—action figures, LEGO kits, video games, or items for their favorite hobbies.
Carly patrols the doorway, and Missie helps inside with getting the children to sit quietly and handing out the presents. We make a good team, and she spends most of it laughing at my interactions with the kids.
“And what’s your name?” I ask a girl as she sits beside me. She looks to be eight or nine.
“Scarlett,” she replies.
“I thought you were great in Black Window,” I tell her in my deep Santa voice, and she giggles.
“That was Scarlett Johansson,” she scolds.
“Oh, I’m sorry. And how is the Tara plantation?”
“That’s Scarlett O’Hara,” her mother corrects, laughing, and the girl giggles again.
“Stop teasing her, Santa,” Missie admonishes, eyes dancing. “Naughty boy,” she mouths, and I wink at her.
Missie brings me regular cups of coffee and free samples from all the food stalls throughout the morning. I’m more than happy to try the chocolate brownies, shortbread, and fudge, although the best bit is the pork bun she brings me during our lunch break.
When I start up again, Carly holds the tent flap to one side, and to my surprise Finn comes in, pushed by an older woman with hair that’s completely silver and cut in an attractive bob. She looks enough like Missie for me to guess that this is her mother.
“Hello Santa,” Finn says, grinning, as Zelda leaps up onto his lap. “I brought my grandma to meet you. Grandma, this is Alex.”
“Who is this Alex of whom you speak? My name is Santa,” I tell him in my booming voice.
He rolls his eyes. “I stopped believing in Santa two years ago.”
Missie and her mum exchange a glance, smiles slipping. Ah. I have a feeling Finn’s dad might have been to blame for that.
Keeping in character, I say, “Hello Grandma.” I hold out my hand. “How very nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Santa, I’m Sandra.” Her eyes sparkle, especially when she watches Finn and Zelda playing together.
“And hello young man,” I say to Finn. “What do you want for Christmas?”
“A new pair of legs, please,” he says. Sandra glances at me, but Missie just laughs. From any other kid, that might have been upsetting or poignant, but she gets that Finn and I know each other well enough now to enjoy the other’s slightly twisted sense of humor.
“I’ll come down the chimney and leave you a pair of robot pants like in Wallace and Gromit’sThe Wrong Trousers,” I tell him, and he giggles.
“What else do you want for Christmas?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “I want to finish the Mayachin Shrine on Zelda. I’ve read the walkthrough, but I can’t work out how to attach the lever to the bit that rotates—it won’t stick.”
