I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
December 11, 2008
Remember this picture? It was supposed to be just another visit to Santa.
Of course, it didn’t exactly go as planned.
Imagine Santa forgetting he’s Santa- WHILE YOUR KIDS ARE ON HIS LAP. Oh yes he did. You can read all about it here, in this week’s newspaper edition of Suburban Turmoil. The full text of the column is below…
BAD SANTA
“OK, Punky, it’s time!” I kneel down beside my 4-year-old daughter, who is freshly scrubbed, beribboned and dressed in her holiday best. “Do you remember what you’re asking for?”
“A pink horse and a Peek-a-boo Barbie shop,” my daughter recites solemnly, “and a house for my princess dolls.” We’ve been discussing Punky’s annual rendezvous with Santa for days and she’s finally settled on three toys, afraid that if she asks for more, he won’t be able to carry everything. Sounds good to me. Over by Santa’s plush throne, an older woman motions to us. “He’s ready,” she calls.
“Go for it!” I tell Punky. Eagerly, she runs to Santa and climbs onto his knee. Behind her, my husband carries our squealing, squirming toddler son and places him carefully on Santa’s other knee. Little Bruiser perches there stiffly, stunned into silence by his close proximity to the jolly old elf while Punky gazes up at Santa, waiting for him to look at her.
Unfortunately for her, Santa’s eyes are riveted on my husband.
“Well, if it isn’t the television newsman!” he says delightedly. “You know, I used to work at your station back in the day. Do you remember a fella by the name of Jim Bob Harriman?”
My mouth drops open. Santa has completely forgotten he’s…. Santa.
I’ve never had much luck with mall Santas. For Punky’s first visit a few years ago, I took her to our closest shopping center, a ghost town of a mall done up in waxy-leafed plants and depressing shades of brown. Once Punky got herself situated on Santa’s somewhat threadbare lap, I managed to coax a smile from her for the camera before returning home triumphantly to e-mail our photo to the grandparents. Minutes after I hit ‘send,’ the phone rang.
“Nice La-Z Boy,” my mom said when I answered. “That’s real classy.” Confused, I looked at the photo again and noticed for the first time that Punky and Santa were seated in an ancient tan recliner that would have elicited a sneer from Archie Bunker himself. Niiiice.
After that, I did my research. The consensus was that the best Santa could be found at Cool Springs Mall. I dutifully drove there with my daughter on a cold December day and we made our way through the Christmas crowds to see him. We were met with one incredibly long line.
“He’s a very understanding Santa,” the woman ahead of me said reassuringly as I took my place at the end of it.
“Really?” I said.
“Yes,” she replied. “That’s why we come back here year after year. This Santa listens.”
I smiled with relief. A compassionate Santa, huh? I guessed this guy was worth the wait.
Forty-five minutes later, Punky scrambled into Santa’s lap and began earnestly reciting nonsense words to him.
“Hey, Punky! Smile for the camera!” I said, positioning myself beside the photographer. She looked over at me, annoyed. Her face twisted with outrage as the bulb flashed.
“I talking to Santa!” she spat. The camera flashed again. Oh, that one was a keeper for sure. I frowned at the photographer. As understanding as Santa was, time was running out and I still didn’t have a Christmas photo that Grandma would approve.
“Psst. Santa!” I said softly. He glanced up at me. “There’s a ‘ten’ in it for you if you can get her to smile.”
His white brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to my daughter.
“Make it a sawbuck!” I stage-whispered. He just wasn’t getting it. “That’s twenty dollars,” I said slowly. Still. Nothing. I bit my lip in anger. Compassionate Santa, my ass. What about my feelings? As soon as Baby was done chatting, I snatched her up off of his lap.
“Thanks!” I grinned like a jackal, adding a “For nothing.” under my breath.
And that’s how I ended up where I am today, standing before yet another Santa in yet another mall and watching dully as he chats up my husband. I wait for a moment, but my son is like a ticking time bomb on Santa’s lap and dammit, I need a decent picture. I turn to Santa’s helper beside me.
“My daughter has been practicing what she’s going to say to Santa forever,” I chuckle in as sincere a tone as I can muster.
“Has she asked him yet?” the woman says.
“Well, no,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes in bewilderment. “Santa seems to be a little bit…” I drop my voice to a whisper, “…busy.”
She purses her lips and strides over to the man in red. “Santa!” she calls gaily. He ignores her. “Santa? Santa… Santa! SANTA!” Santa finally tears his eyes away from Hubs. “This little girl would like to tell you what she wants for Christmas,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Oh, OK,” Santa says, with a hint of reluctance. He looks back at my husband. “Hey, if you see Holly, be sure and tell her ‘Cookie’ says hello!”
Will do, Santa. Will do.
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>That’s hilarious! I haven’t ventured out to take my kids to Santa yet…not sure how they’d handle it–maybe a bit like Bruiser. 🙂
>I could not imagine! Haha. Punky didn’t recognize, right?At least she’s still small enough to not realize. Haha.
>Where do they get these guys?
>The more I thought about it, the angrier I got, because she’s pretty damn observant. She hasn’t mentioned it, but this is the kind of thing I could see popping up in six months or so, out of the blue.And she’s tiny for her age. Had she been just one year older, I’m sure she would have totally realized what was going on, or at least asked some serious questions about it. Needless to say, I don’t think we’ll be going back to that Santa. Or should I say, my HUSBAND won’t be going back with us!!
>The worst we have encountered was the skinny Santa and a photographer that couldn’t take a picture. Oddly, the company contracted to take the pictures was popular in wedding photography and video. Thank God, I didn’t hire them for my wedding. 🙂
>Yeah, we have Santa visit the kids at my park every year, and last year my boss asked a 100 pound, 19 year old hispanic rocker to do it. His long hair came out under the wig and we had to put pillows under the suit. The kids are STILL talking about the “fake Santa” we had last year!
>I had a similar experience with my husband. He is a local celebrity here and we were at the doctor’s office getting two year old shots for my son. The boy DID NOT want to get shots. We were all holding him down, doctor, nurse, husband and me. He is screaming at the top of his lungs in a way that only little people can. That scream that shoots up your spine and makes your brain explode. At this glorius moment the receptionist burst in and points and my husband and announces proudly “I know who you are!”. I said some bad words and she left. The worst part, she was the doctor’s wife. We changed doctors.
>Too funny; black and navy blue; gotta love hubs!
>OMG. I would have died!! Glad she didn’t catch it. Maybe you can explain it away. Next time go to Rivergate. Getto mall, BEST.SANTA.EVER!
>Interestingly, the same upscale mall Santa that uncharacteristically (by Nashville standards) chatted up the celebrity was the consummate professional with us. If he happened to be one of my patients, I probably would have faced the same problem.
>LOL…sorry. You take the kids to see Santa, and Santa can’t take his mind and conversation off your hub ;)Lindsay, you lead an interesting life, to say the least.
>We ventured to the cool springs santa this year and got there early. My 3year old is very nervous around santa, but this guy was awesome. Just as she disappeared behind me, he got up and took her hand and began talking to her. A second later, she was in his lap spilling all her Christmas wishes. The guy was good. And, he didn’t seem to mind taking his time with her. I know long lines can be frustrating, but it was really a great experience!
>Have you seen Bad Santa with Billy Bob Thornton yet?
>Yes, and we thought it was totally NOT funny.
>Our local mall had the same “Santa” for my kids entire childhood—real beard, real tummy, the best. Unfortunately, “Santa” was convicted of child molesting last year! So now I am left with 10 pictures on my mantle of a convicted child molester—but I no longer have to wonder why my son always hated sitting on his lap!
>Nicole is right. The Santa at Rivergate was great and the photo “helpers” were kind and patient with the kids who were scared. It was a really good experience.