Damn.
The expectant sock hung there, visible proof that the mental pat on the back earlier that day was prematurely delivered. Santa is supposed to know whose socks are where. After all, Twinkle was home at her apartment so why shouldn’t her sock be there, too? Never mind that we hadn’t done it that way in previous years; whatever Rebecca‘s reasoning,Twinkle’s new sock at her own apartment had seemed like a good idea at the time.
At this point my mind was paddling madly trying to stay afloat in the face of incontrovertible evidence that we had a SantaFAIL on our hands.
“Ummm, well……Santa…..came to my house first……and……he knew you were there and he only saw your sock…..that must be why he put the cat treats for Twinkle in your sock! He knew you would give them to her and he didn’t think he needed to stop at your place.”
“But they were the wrong kind. She only eats salmon flavor”. Rebecca’s thinking is so concrete she has this ability to point out the obvious. Keeps me grounded, it does.
“Ummm, yes…..perhaps the elf got confused about which treats went to which cat.” When in doubt, blame the elf.
There was some acceptance of this reasoning but I saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as we moved on to making plans for the next couple of days and when Rebecca would return to my house. I could have let this whole episode go; my explanations all seemed plausible enough and we could start over next year but this was just not a satisfying end to an otherwise Great Christmas. How could this elf redeem herself?
When I was younger I lived in Europe for a time and Christmas was celebrated for the full twelve days. Trolls and elves ruled the season and gifts were given throughout. There was the answer……Christmas is a season, not a day! Salmon treats, a festive gift bag (half price by now!) and the appropriate note from Santa were prepared. When the kids were little Santa used to leave them notes thanking them for the snacks on Christmas Eve so a letter would not be unusual. Rebecca would be over later that day; where to leave this second offering? It needed to be somewhere quite obvious and I needed to be nowhere near when she found it. I filled the bag, slipped in the note from Santa, hung it on the front door and left to run errands.
Returning a couple of hours later I found the gift bag and its contents laid out on the kitchen counter. Rebecca was beaming. When I had left the house I mentally checked off the SantaFail as “handled” and had been so busy I had actually forgotten about it. This is good because it made it possible for me to be totally surprised at this scene in my kitchen. This same trait also enables me to hide my own Easter eggs, genuinely laugh at jokes being told for the umpteenth time and to be otherwise easily entertained. I consider it a strength.
Rebecca handed me the note; “I haven’t gotten a letter from Santa for a long time! He has nice handwriting. I can’t read cursive”. I read the note to her and she grinned. She got into her back pack and produced Twinkle’s new Christmas sock. “This needs to stay at your house for Christmas next year!”
Elf: 1, SantaFail: 0
Ahhhhh what a great ending to what would have seemed to be a very bad SantaFAIL. Growing up I do remember every once in a while Santa, or an Elf, would accidentally miss or forget something only to make it right shortly thereafter, and yes it involved a note from the big man himself offering his apologies. Santa and his elves had to remember something though and that was to not have another SantaFAIL for the same child the next Christmas.
Loved it!
And that is the real reason sticky notes were invented! Thanks for reading, Claire