52. When The Kid Hands Santa A Gift
A few years back I filled in for Santa at a locally owned toy store. As I don’t quite look old enough to be Santa (and I have a full lush gingery lumberjack beard), I was billed as “Nick Jr.” and the story was that my dad was Santa and I was in training to be the next Santa—he was having me go and fill in for him at some of the usual stops as part of my training.
Oh man, the kids loved that. There was a rocking chair that I was “supposed” to sit in, but I sat on the floor with the kids and chatted and it was awesome. The kids really connected with this idea of a “trainee Santa.”
The most heart-wrenching story came from a little girl, about seven or so, who was staying with her dad and stepmom because her mommy was deathly ill in the hospital. She came and saw me every day that I was there and she just wanted to talk to someone she KNEW could really understand where she was coming from in her fear. She hoped that she could come visit the North Pole, but understood if it wasn’t possible.
My last day of the gig she brought me a handwritten-in-crayon note thanking me for everything, saying she was glad to have met me and hoping that I grew up to be the best Santa ever. Let me tell you, all the feels. I am going to keep that note forever.