... and to all a good night!

Santa looked like daddy,
Or daddy looked like him.
It's not the way I had him pictured,
Santa was a' much too thin.
He didn't come down the chimney,
So momma must have let him in.
Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked a lot like him…


When I was in preschool, Santa came to the party we had after our Christmas Program.

I’d never had a problem with multiple Santas – after all, I knew the REAL one worked at the downtown Bon, where Nanna took us for photos. The rest were just stand-ins, nice guys who would lend St. Nick a hand during his busy season.

This stand in, however, was different. While he was busy ‘ho ho ho’-ing, I was busy trying to figure out why he sounded so familiar. And gee, his eyebrows… they’d been painted white-ish, sure, but I knew those eyebrows. They looked like Dad’s. I asked Santa who he really was, but he just declared “Why, I’m Santa Claus!”

Not helpful.

By the end of the afternoon, I was convinced, but Santa refused to cop to being anyone’s Dad. I left off asking Santa at the party, but grilled Daddy mercilessly at home that night. Dad, however, knew nothing about the preschool Santa. He’d been to the program, but he hadn’t been able to come to the party until later – after Santa had left. I didn’t buy it. Sounded too much like Clark Kent never being seen at the same time as Superman. So, as any like-minded 4-year old is wont to do, I filed it away and threw myself into the pre-Christmas bacchanal.

As I got older, I’d ask Dad about it sometimes, and he’d never confirm or deny… but I finally wormed it out of him when I was in my late teens/early 20’s. He’d played Santa for my preschool party.

Do I still believe in Santa?

… well, I do believe in a guy with a beard who gives me presents. I always will.

Merry Christmas/holiday of your choice, all!