Thursday, December 23, 2010
'Is That You Santy Clause?'
Now it can be told...
I was speaking with my niece in San Francisco the other day and she told me about an incident from her childhood that happened at Christmas time many years ago.
She was just a little girl--she's a teen-ager now--and her father/my brother decided to do the Santa-Claus-coming-down-chimney routine for her.
So he starts banging on the wall to make her think Old St. Nick is coming in for a landing.
The only problem with this plan, she tells me, was that she was terrified by the noise and ran crying into her room.
The next day she asked my brother who was making that awful racket.
"He told me it was Uncle Robert," she said.
Say what? How did I get left holding the Santa bag? I was 3,000 miles away minding my own business in Brooklyn and I have to take the rap for spooking small children?
Why couldn't you just blame Santa? The guy doesn't exist anyway--sorry, kids--so he doesn't have to worry about adorable little girls hating his guts. It's a wonder my niece ever spoke to me after that.
Apparently Victoria got over this episode and somehow managed to forgive me, which is good to know seeing as I didn't do anything.
I have to say Christmas has been a little tough this year. Both I and family members have been struggling with colds this season and I've been dodging coughers on the subway left and right. (Someone is coughing in this internet cafe as I write this. Oy!)
I haven't seen the trees at Rockefeller Center or at the Met, which is hands down my favorite Christmas tree. It's also indoors, so you can enjoy it without risking frostbite.
However, despite all the hassles, including a computer that is as dead as Jacob Marley, I intend to enjoy the holidays this year and I want you all to do the same.
And if someone starts banging on your wall on Christmas Eve, don't blame me.