December 23, 2010 | 11:50 am
Posted by Mihal Levy
While everyone was at the mall shopping for Christmas gifts, I was there with my son shopping for a gift for a bris we were going to the next day. You might have seen me with my son. He was the one yelling at Santa to stop wishing us a Merry Christmas every time we passed by the gigantor Christmas tree, but Santa would not quit.
We must have passed Santa at least four times going back and forth between children’s clothing stores to find the perfect bris gift. Each time we passed Santa, he would get up out of his seat, walk toward my son, and cheer a jolly “Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas, little boy.” I just smiled and wished Santa a Merry Christmas back. My son nodded and waved as well.
Then the question came. My son asked, “Is Santa yucky, Mommy?” In this case, Santa was yucky - and a little perverted, I might add. He seemed to have his beard on lopsided and was a little overjoyed every time a woman in a short skirt or jeggings (a combination of leggings and jeans) would walk by. He would stare at them from head to toe and wish them a Merry Christmas in a “How YOU doin’?” tone. The mall wasn’t very crowded and Santa was single, I assume. Or maybe things weren’t so good at home with Mrs. Claus - what was poor Santa to do?
I told my son that Santa was not yucky, but that he was just saying hello to us. I told my son we should also wish Santa a Merry Christmas. My son agreed and shouted out to Santa as we passed, “Merry Christmas because you celebrate it, we don’t.” Not my intention, but it worked.
I decided to finally settle for a couple of outfits and a gift card at Baby Gap to avoid passing Santa any more, as well as the crowds that were now forming in the mall.
My son picked out a cute striped onesie, while I chose a red and grey fleece onesie. “Perfect,” I thought.
We got the gifts and headed back toward our car. I was hoping this time as we passed Santa that he would be so busy checking out the ladies or in the midst of a photo-op that he wouldn’t notice us. No such luck. Santa waved to us as we passed.
We waved and were almost home free, until Santa yelled out. “Looks like you got a gift in that bag, kiddo. What did you get for Christmas?” Santa was clearly bored and we were there to entertain him, apparently.
My son yelled out, “We don’t celebrate Christmas!”
But Santa continued, “Yeah, then what’s the gift for?” Now Santa was just plain nosey.
I couldn’t help it. I replied, “For Brismas!”
He appeared confused. My son laughed, although I am not entirely sure whether he got it or just thought it was funny that Mommy answered Santa.
We got home and I went to wrap the two outfits we had purchased for Brismas. The first was cute. The one my son chose. But then I noticed the second one had devil’s horns attached to the hood, which I hadn’t noticed in the store. I could not possibly give this as a present. Now I would have to go back and exchange the little devil onesie and deal with the crowds and Santa again. That’s what I get for talking back to Santa. I am not even sure the horns were attached when I picked it up at the store. Hmmm. One has to wonder. Thanks, Santa.
We welcome your feedback.
Your information will not be shared or sold without your consent. Get all the details.
JewishJournal.com has rules for its commenting community.Get all the details.
JewishJournal.com reserves the right to use your comment in our weekly print publication.
4.17.11 at 8:49 pm | Trying to explain Passover to my son seems almost. . .
3.21.11 at 3:37 pm | I usually don't quit anything, but mommy groups. . .
1.19.11 at 7:12 pm | A shooting in Woodland Hills? Couldn’t be!. . .
1.17.11 at 3:20 pm | Chuck E. Cheese's for cool kids and moms.
12.30.10 at 12:40 pm | Yesterday I got a few hours to myself. And what. . .
12.27.10 at 5:12 pm | After a time of pirouettes and pointe shoes,. . .
3.9.10 at 10:38 am | Mayim Bialik talks about her recent return to. . . (13)
9.28.10 at 5:09 pm | Who knew hand sanitizer could replace breast. . . (13)
7.28.10 at 11:00 am | Nannies must have nannies, otherwise how would. . . (5)