Thus far, this day is looking beautiful. Which is good, since we are having some friends over for a little get-together.
And I should be off this & onto the food preparations.
But a little time to myself before the day is underway, wont hurt.
We went to a busy Mall to do our last bit of shopping on Friday, & I heard piercing screams coming from a corner in one of the large stores. A mother with a little girl in tow, said "Whenever you hear screams, - there will be Santa!"
And, she was right!
The corner was sectioned off, with piles of toys stacked about to form a sort of alcove.
Inside, at one end, was a 'throne' affair, with a large, seated, smirking Santa.
And on the floor at his feet, was a sobbing, shrieking, squirming half naked little boy!
(That sounds downright 'indecent'. And it was, but not for reasons that first spring to mind.)
From what I, & other horrified onlookers, could gather, the poor little shrieker had decided to undress, frantically hoping to avoid having to sit on the 'Santa Ogre's' knee! And his equally determined mother, was frantically re-dressing him, to have the all important photo taken.
The mother who was instructing her little girl on the reason for the screams reiterated her message to her daughter. "I told you so!" she said triumphantly.
I felt too distressed at the sight of the hapless little chap on the floor, surrounded by gaping faces, & I left before the spectacle ended.
Why do people subject their poor children to such torture? I am sure that little boy will never get over that experience.
My mother always told me she had been terrified of 'Santas' & they seemed to have scarred her for life, but she was never really sure 'why'.
I think my first sighting of 'Santa' was in the small town 'Parade' that took place on Xmas Eve. A huge truck, decorated with various ferns & foliages, would drive through the main street, & a Santa would be seated on a throne affair, waving at the onlookers who lined the street. I think there were mostly pretty girls surrounding the Santa, & from memory, they threw lollies out at the children.
The truck would go down one side of the street, & return up the other. The street was a wide one, with a tree lined piece in the centre.
Another memory of Santa, was at my Uncle's work Xmas Party. Santa was always reeking of beer, & forgot everyone's names, & grasped too tightly, & handed out gifts, after calling your name out. How I squirmed to think of having to go forward & be grabbed! The gift was somehow tarnished for that experience, & could never be regarded as something pleasant.
When my children were young, they were not very keen on Santa either, & I would never force them to 'pose'. Once, one of my sons decided he would like to sit on Santa's knee, so he went forward. The old "bugger" looked at a mole on my son's neck, touched it, & then told my son, "You should eat your vegetables, that is why you have got that!" The hurt & surprise in my son's eyes were awful, & he never forgot that incident. Tears sprang to his eyes, & the photographer captured his stricken look. I couldnt believe the old swine, & never bothered to take my kids near a Santa again.
Small Grandson is not keen on Santas either, but he is really excited about Xmas this year, & keeps telling me there are presents, 'but I cant tell you Nan, because they are 'SECRETS'.' And he is very good about not touching them, or attempting to open them. Which must be hard when you are only 4!