Every year I become Santa Clause for a local township. Why I got hook into this I will never know. The first year was because the old Santa had to work that night and they need a replacement. So, I figured what the heck I fill in. Now, being a single person in their late forties, I had forgotten what the joy it was to see the kids and the wonder in their eyes. When they got on my knee and told me what they wanted, you could see in smiles.
The next year they asked and I said sure, but thought what am I getting myself into. Climbing up on the fire truck and riding through town. Who me, come on I am the fat guy who hides from everyone. But there I was again doing it. Now, I would bitch and complain Ho f’n Ho was and still is my moto, but don’t let anyone know I really enjoy it.
Last night was no exception. I wondered if my knees would hold out. They did, I guess dropping 70 pounds helped. The kids were great, although before I got there a helicopter fly by and they thought it was Santa and his reindeer. We lite the tree and they had cookies and hot chocolate, the choir was great and I had a good time. The best par was when a little girl came up and was crying and did not want to sit on my lap. When she finally stopped fussing the brightest smile came across her face. Pure joy and a quick tear came to my eye.
Who said the magic of Christmas is gone.
Food was bad, but the night was good.
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