Bob Thomas Writes

Apparently I need to loose weight and shave my beard off!

In the last few months I’ve been mistaken for Santa Claus one time too many! Usually by a child four or five years old.

The first time I was sitting in a Donut Shop waiting for a meeting. As I sat reading the paper, and dunking’ my doughnut, I felt a tentative little pat on my leg. I turned and looked into the bluest blue eyes I’d seen in a long time. The face was looking up at me with the most pleading look I’ve ever seen! His small, quivering little voice said,

 “Are you Santa Claus?”   I just couldn’t say, “No, I’m not,” and destroy his belief that he had discovered Santa at the Donut Shop! So, I said, “I’m not supposed to say.” His face lit up with a wonderful smile! He raced across the restaurant to his Mother and told her that he had “found” Santa!

 She looked at me and mouthed the words, “I’m Sorry.” I was momentarily taken aback . . . Then I realized that she was apologizing because she thought I would be upset to be called Santa . . .   “the fat guy with the white beard!” Well, I am a fat guy with a white beard! And, as far as she knows, I could be Santa Claus! And I made a little kid happy for a few seconds… or maybe a few years!

A few weeks later, I was on my way thorough the local post office. As I approached a young Mother carrying her son, the little boys’ eyes fell on me while I was still 50 feet away from them. I walked closer and offered him my best, “Cute Kid” smile. He spat his pacifier to the floor, raised up as tall as he could in his Mothers arms, and said ‘SANTA!” I didn’t confirm or deny his suspicion . . .  I winked at him and kept on walking. As I left the post office I could still hear his little voice ringing through the halls . . .  “IT WAS TO SANTA!”

Today I watched as a customer came in my shop to browse around a bit. She had her child in a stroller and the little girl was “big-eyed” at all of the glittering things on the shelves. As she  was  strolled  around  the  store  she  didn’t give me a single look . . .  not once did she look in my direction. When Mom finished her shopping she headed for the door, and I heard her daughter say,” Sanny Cause.” Her Mom said, “What Sweetie?”

Again I heard,”Sanny Cause”. . . Mom turned to look at me as she left the store and said, “No, Sweetie, it’s not Santa.” As the little girl was being pushed up the sidewalk, she leaned out of her stroller and looked back at me . . . I stroked my white beard, waved at her and said, “Merry Christmas! HO! HO! HO! “

I like being mistaken for Santa Claus . . .  Especially by little kids that still believes in me, uh, him.

I may wake them up on Christmas Eve so we can reminisce.