What did you do to Santa?

He looked at the Santa’s costume, which was displayed right at the front door, and when I saw my husband’s face I knew we would not leave the estate sale without it. It was a nicely made outfit. Red fur jacket, and pants, a matching hat, a black belt which later on would hold a fake belly in place, white gloves, and even gold-colored glasses without the lenses.

About fifteen years ago, one of my husband’s dreams came true. He wanted to play Santa so badly, he didn’t even try to negotiate the price or look at anything else our neighbors had to offer. He quickly paid, and we went back to the house. It was in the middle of summer, the Santa costume went directly into our storage shed. We had a few months to find an audience for Santa to shine, and to order a pair of black boots to match the outfit.

If your husband becomes Santa, doesn’t it mean the wife becomes Mrs. Claus? But, of course, being married to Santa is just like any other marriage, before I had the chance to think about my new position, I became Santa’s secretary, and ended up talking to schools, nursing homes, and hospitals, in the hope to find a job opening for my Santa Claus.

Our local school was thrilled, so was the nursing home and quickly Santa had a full day of duties on a Friday in December.

I sewed and stuffed a fake belly, we ordered boot covers with white fur, which would turn my husband’s black work boots into Santa’s shoes.

We were both excited, by the end of November, we were all set and ready to go. My elf hat arrived, and we had turned an old phonebook into THE GOLDEN BOOK, all that was left was for me to freshen Santa’s suit up.

It was my official Christmas decorating day. All morning long I hauled boxes with Christmas decorations from the shed to the house. Travis, our neighbor’s kid, was hanging icicles on our roof. I checked on him frequently, made sure he had everything he needed. I walked back and forth, acted like I had five heads and ten arms doing everything and all at once.

The Santa outfit had been tumbling in the dryer for an hour on cold, just to freshen and fluff it up a bit. When I got it out of the dryer, I was pleased with the result. I sprayed it with some fabric freshener and put the outfit on a heavy wooden hanger. I was on my way from the laundry room to the living room when the backdoor opened and Zaccary, Travis’s little brother came in. He was such an adorable kid. The baby of the family, six years old, confident and cute as he could be.

He worshiped my husband because he discussed wrestling with him, also little Zaccary had attacked him on Halloween with a plastic sword until my husband had winced in agony, which had made him laugh.

I, on the other hand, was in his eyes totally uninteresting. I was good for cookies, and alright to talk with when his mom and I took them all out for lunch, but other than that, he had no use for me -after all, I was just a girl.

Zaccary stood in our living room and stared at me in disbelieve. I could tell he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I am quite certain he thought the worst of me.

“What are you doing?” he said, lips pursed, forehead frowned, eyes wide open.

“I am doing laundry,” I answered truthfully, tried to figure out why he looked so puzzled.

“What are you doing with Santa’s clothes?” he asked and I didn’t know what to say. Yep, I was holding Santa’s outfit in my hands.

“What did you do to Santa?” it felt more and more like an interrogation. He looked at me like I was a serial killer. I didn’t want to be the one who crushed his Santa believes, that’s what parents are for.

“I am doing his laundry,” I blurted out, which wasn’t so far from the truth at all.

“YOUUUUUUU ARE DOING SANTA’S LAUNDRY????” he stretched his words long, his facial impression changed. The serial-killer-look was gone, now it was pure admiration.

I had become superwoman, a magical creature, a neighbor with connections.

“Yes, but don’t tell anybody, it’s a secret, I don’t want too many people to know.”

He nodded the same way adults do and made a gesture that his lips would be sealed. He turned around, walked to the backdoor, and right before he left he turned around. “You should lock your door.” No shit Sherlock!

Zachary kept his promise, he only told his mom and his dad about my new ‘job.’

For one year I was the coolest person he knew! Whenever he looked at me, it was hard to keep a straight face, especially when his parents were around. He didn’t ask me for cookies but brought me candy instead. Go figure!

One year later the other kids in school told him the truth, and I became an ordinary neighbor again.