You Wascally Wabbit, You: 2004

A very generous couple paid us to go to four families, one of which was their grandchildren's home. The couple was there for that sitting, but had to just wonder about how the rest of the four visits went. We did give them feedback, of course.
They wanted to remain anonymous.


It was quite an evening, full of different responses. The first house received us well.





The grandfather was so into acting the part of Rudolph when the family sang the song. Santa had him wearing the red nose and antlers, of course, much to the delight of his grandchildren.
The next house had a completely different occurance. The sweet little four-year-old hid the moment she heard the bells and would not calm down, or come out even when her daddy tried to comfort her. She didn't calm down until we left.
We left the presents and wished her apologetic father a Merry Christmas.
Later, we told the couple who had arranged for us to visit these families about the experience and we said we would not charge for that home. But they would not hear of it. They were so delighted with what we had done that they told us to keep the money to keep the Myth of Santa alive. Myth? What Myth? Santa is alive and well. I believe; don't you? These four homes were spread out in the city and in between we needed to take the annoying potty break. We went to McDonalds, and were waiting for a good time to go into the bathroom when another Santa mosied on over in the same direction. We quickly shut our car door, so as not to confuse any children. Well, guess we had to look in another direction for a bathroom. The next home had two boys. One was at work. We were going to try to catch him at work the next week. We left his gift. The other boy, an eight-year-old was so thrilled to see us. We had a good visit. We found out he liked to draw on the computer. He showed us how. He printed off two of his pictures of Santa that he had drawn earlier. I thanked him and told him I would put them in a book and save them forever. I keep a scrapbook of our adventures. He smiled and looked so pleased.

The last home was really hard to find, but we finally did. There were three pleasant children. Whenever another detail about them was revealed by Santa, they exclaimed, "He is the real Santa!" Santa was telling them about his staff and had gotten through what "J" meant--Jesus, and what the "O" meant--Others, and was asking what the "Y" meant?

Rylie was deep in thought. "Wylie" he said.

Santa picked up on that Elmer Fudd twist and answered, "You're cwacty wright, you wascally wabbit, you." Santa is big on cartoon characters. Whenever someone mentions Mickey Mouse, he talks like him. If you thought finding the house was tough, you should have seen us trying to find our way home. We ended up way out in the boonies, hoping that we wouldn't run out of gas. At least we had the cell phone--just in case. We were glad to finally see the freeway again and know that another night had gone well--well with only one mishap. Somewhere along the way we had lost the reindeer nose and antlers.

Oh well. That's the way the snowflake melts.

Mrs. Claus