Fauxnication
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Dec 20, 2016
- Posts
- 395
My black boots trudge through the snow atop our sidewalk, leaving distinctive footprints on the way to the doorstep. The light snow flies toward my face, but the white beard does a decent job of shielding most of it. And although it's really cold outside, I find myself nearly sweating, thanks to the fat suit and the familiar heavy, white-fur-trimmed red jacket and pants.
Needless to say, I have a newfound respect for Dad after taking on the role of Santa this year.
With his recent surgery, Mom thought it'd be best if I take the reins (no pun intended) as Santa for our Christmas party. My older sister's two kids were the only young children there, so it wouldn't be that daunting a task to hold them on my lap for a bit and listen to them rattle off their wish lists. Hopefully, they'd be too enamored with telling me what they want that they wouldn't notice that Santa isn't an old man, but rather their fresh-faced, 20-year-old uncle.
I ring the doorbell, then sling the bag of fake gifts over one of my broad shoulders, patiently waiting for Mom to answer the door like she traditionally does.
Needless to say, I have a newfound respect for Dad after taking on the role of Santa this year.
With his recent surgery, Mom thought it'd be best if I take the reins (no pun intended) as Santa for our Christmas party. My older sister's two kids were the only young children there, so it wouldn't be that daunting a task to hold them on my lap for a bit and listen to them rattle off their wish lists. Hopefully, they'd be too enamored with telling me what they want that they wouldn't notice that Santa isn't an old man, but rather their fresh-faced, 20-year-old uncle.
I ring the doorbell, then sling the bag of fake gifts over one of my broad shoulders, patiently waiting for Mom to answer the door like she traditionally does.