Civic engagement can come in an abundance of forms. This Christmas, instead of phoning our Senator urging the passage of health care, a few respectful citizens and I took up an equally important cause, Elfing. The local chapter of the Jaycees raises funds by charging patrons a nominal fee to get their picture taken with Santa at the Ballston Commons, a futile attempt to coalesce enough trinket shops to earn the stature of mall. In order to make this cost-effective, they rely on a well-mobilized volunteer force (enter Elves).
So Valerie and I donned our sprite-like attire, Elfed in everything except the pointed leaf-shaped ears. Remy and Megha got into a tussle over who would go as Mrs. Claus, and compromised in the end. They both went as Mrs. Claus. I thought Santa had higher morals than this, or maybe he’s just a fundamental Mormon at heart.
From my limited exposure braving the onslaught of candy-cane-eating children (ergogenics at its best), I have successfully categorized all Santa-see-ers into the following three categories:
The Eager Beavers: These rambunctious firecrackers have been waiting since becoming zygotes to sit on Santa Claus’ lap. Their list of holiday hankerings exceeds the allotted Santa-time, and their faces radiate gingersnaps and sugar plums. They often return every five minutes to make sure Santa’s still there and shout out an additional gift idea or two.
The Fake Outs: Synonyms for this genre include little rascals and jackanapes. From the hundred yard line, they scream for Santa, but something sets them off right outside the end zone and the fury is unleashed. Maybe it’s just cold feet, or maybe Santa’s beard is more scraggly than they remembered, but whatever the cause, the consequence is always the same; Tears. If I hadn’t received a decent education, I would have guessed the Trail of Tears was actually the spot from Santa’s lap to the nearest mall exit.
The Dazed and Confused: This group of children is either (a) star struck and speechless (b) too young to know who Santa is or (c) asleep. No matter, they are the easiest category to corral for a picture.
By the end of my shift, I also came to realize that there was a category in a class of its own:
You’re Too Old to Sit On Santa’s Lap: The outcome of paralyzing Santa from the waist down has negative externalities for us all. A handicapped Santa certainly can’t shimmy down the chimney to deliver presents to all the eager beavers, fake outs, and dazed and confused.
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