Santa’s helper faces great expectations

I’m not an actor, but this time every year, I start getting requests for special performances.

The requested role is always Santa Claus.

I guess, I could take offense to the requests, as someone asking me to “play” Santa is indirectly saying I have “a broad face and little round belly.” But, I know they mean nothing by it. I tend to think I am offered the role because I’m “a right jolly old elf.” Besides, it’s a fact, when I laugh I shake like a bowl full of jelly.

Usually, I fulfill every request. However, this year, things have happened so lively and quick, I really had no time to be St. Nick.

I must admit I missed being Santa this year, so last week I decided to wear my white faux-fur lined, red stocking cap and a shirt that said “Believe” as I ran my errands. Given the season that we’re in, I didn’t turn many heads, as there were several people dressed similarly. The only person to take notice of me all day was a little boy.

I would say the boy was about 4 or 5. His snagglepuss–grin made me “laugh when I saw him in spite of myself.” He slowly made his way across the room toward me, and the next thing I knew, he was beside me pulling on my sleeve, wearing a big toothless smile.

“Hi!” I said to him.

“Are you like Santa or something?” he asked.

Wow. I wasn’t prepared to be asked something like that, let alone answer it, so I answered it the best was I could.

“I’m one of Santa’s helpers,” I said.

The little boy, never missing a beat, said, “So, you’re an elf! Do you have pointy ears?”

I winked my eye and placed a finger beside my nose and said, “Why, yes, I sure do! That’s why I’m wearing my red hat!” Then, I leaned down, gave him a smile and whispered, “This old red hat hides my big, pointy elf ears.”

The boy just flashed a gummy grin and scampered off. I was getting ready to dash away myself, when I heard a lady shout, “Santa’s Helper! Come here a minute!”

I went over “to see what was the matter.” According to the lady, young snagglepuss still had another question for me.

“Is Santa going to help me?” the young boy asked.

I was a little confused by the question and pondered it for a minute. Did he mean is Santa going to visit? That must have been it.

“Well, I think you are on Santa’s good list this year, so I’m pretty sure Santa will help you out this Christmas,” I said.

Again, the boy smiled and ran off. The lady and I watched the boy in silence. Finally, she said, “I’m glad you told him that. He and his family are homeless and all he wants Santa to bring him this year is house where they all can live.”

It broke my heart. While most kids are concerned about what toy they want this Christmas, this young boy only wanted a place to live. It was a beautiful, selfless wish. I hope it comes true.

Yes, Virginia. Sometimes I wish I were Santa Claus.