Tuesday, January 18, 2011
The Jew who saved Christmas - Part 2
So I returned somewhat triumphant to the living room, smiling ear to eat about my performance. Not that I thought that my performance was great by any means, just that I wasn't a disaster. I had not, as I feared, ruined Christmas.
So the family was sitting around opening presents and the kids were milling about. I started to get some good feedback. When the kids had asked how Santa had gotten into the second-story bedroom, the adults pointed to the window I had left open as proof. That wowed them. The 2-year-old was walking around talking about hearing reindeer and bells. Big payoff!
So I'm sitting taking pictures and video of the family. The ultra-sassy four-year-old girl comes over to me with a Mickey Mouse dressed up as Santa Claus. When you squeezed him, he played Jingle Bells.
"Look!" I said. "Santa Mickey!"
The girl, who was sporting a giant red bow on her head, walked over to me and, with her eyes wide, said, "Jon, were you Santa Claus?"
My blood turned to ice. If I was the one who ruined Santa Claus for a 4-year-old girl I would never forgive myself. And, most likely, neither would her family. After all, they are Italian, and they treat their kids like the Messiah. I did my best to evade, but not lie.
"I don't know about that," I responded with a nervous laugh. "I wasn't here when Santa was here, right?" That was actually the opposite of what I was trying to convey - I was trying to do a Clark Kent vs. Superman thing, but it didn't pan out.
Her face became skeptical.
"Jon, I think you ARE Santa Claus," she accused.
I was sweating. I tried to b.s. her as best I could, but then she pulled out the big guns.
"That wasn't the real Santa Claus. Santa Claus doesn't have a string around his beard."
I was finished. I let her lay into me, interrogating me, until she lost interest. She confidently declared "You ARE Santa Claus, Jon. You ARE!" and went back to her toys.
Fortunately for me, there was much whiskey at hand.
Posted by Jonathan Rubin