When I mentioned in one of my festive blogs that the whole Santa thing was a bit of an elephant in the room with my kids, a Facebook friend commented: “I’m sure children at school have burst that bubble.”
But I don’t know about that because, five years ago, we met the real Santa. He was at Santaland, in the Macy’s department store in New York. It had to be him – he had a proper beard and everything. At the very least, he was an extremely close relative, like a brother or a nephew or a fifth cousin once removed.
The eldest was five at the time. She was totally blitzed. I think that’s what convinced me he was the real deal. She sensed his special aura.
Santaland was pretty awesome too. There were model trains, dancing teddy bears and singing trees to entertain the hordes as we queued to see the man in red. Americans don’t do anything by half measures.
The look on the eldest′s face when she was finally ushered into Santa’s tiny faux living room was priceless. She was giddy with joy. She raced over, climbed onto a step at his feet and stood whispering to him for a few moments as we cajoled her little sister to get a bit closer.
Santa made such a big deal of eldest, they chatted like old friends. He recalled seeing her the year before, asked if she’d been a good girl in the meantime.
When it was photo time, she clambered straight onto his lap and wrapped her arms around him in adoration.
I’d been thinking she’d be a total cynic about the Santa Claus thing. She’d certainly been asking lots of probing questions in the lead-up to our visit. But Real Santa was so impressive – he had chubby cheeks, twinkling eyes and a gentle manner that made you feel like he had all the time in the world to spend with you.
Fast forward six years and the eldest is still insistent on visiting Santa for her annual photo (and wants to leave carrots out for his reindeers on Christmas Eve).
Back then her on-the-spot request was for a Barbie doll … this year she saw a life-sized tiger in the toy department of David Jones moments before and asked for one …
They belong together … don’t you reckon? I’m a little worried about Christmas morning meltdown when the youngest doesn’t get the matching stuffed giraffe that’s as tall as her … I’m hoping a basket of stuffed puppies will soften the blow …
It won’t, will it???? Oh god!!!!! What am I going to do????
I REALLY don’t want to pay $150 for a toy giraffe. That’s just crazy talk. Besides, she asked Santa for kinetic sand. And Santa’s bringing that … its probably going to put his back out because it’s so bloody heavy …
Song of the day: The Monkees “I’m a believer”
housegoeshome 
Certainly LOOKS like the real santa, doesnt he?
He was remarkable.
You can just see they joy on her little face! Now that’s magic 🙂
‘the’ joy. P.S. Do. Not. Buy. Giraffe.
totally agree… giraffe NOT required… lol
There’s no giraffe, please god let that not mean a meltdown …