It’s always strange when somebody steps out of character for a moment. As a kid, when I overheard my mom say she was really P.O.‘d about something, it was like I’d heard an angel take God’s name in vain, it was so shocking.
Because see, I knew what the ‘P’ in ‘P.O.‘d‘ stood for.
And just today, Santa Claus said something kind of strange.
Yeah, that’s right, Santa Claus. Red furry suit. Long white beard. Jolly expression. Only it’s odd when all of the sudden he drops that famously jolly expression in order to ask your sister, who is recently wheel-chair bound due to knee surgery from which she is recuperating, if her condition is permanent.
And yes, all of the Christmas music came to a screeching halt because that’s a weird question anyway. Even if you aren’t Santa. I mean, what if it was a permanent condition? What if she was our own version of Tiny Tim, doomed to forever hobble around on a leg that barely works? Or rather, be pushed by people like me who erroneously presume that when a bump is in the horizon, the best course of action is to push the wheelchair harder, making her almost fall out and brace her body against doing just that with nothing other than her bad leg?! And is it a good idea to bring it up in the middle of the mall? So what then? My sister bursts out in tears because she was once again reminded of her poor and unfortunate state by freaking Santa Claus, of all people?!
Luckily, though, her condition is not permanent.
And she let Santa know.
And then he continued in a most un-jolly voice, red hat pulled low over his brow, Well, you really should have a lighter chair than that for travel.
Ummmmm, okay.
Thanks?
I mean, I knew Santa was a lot of things. Able to be in all places at once on Christmas Eve. Able to shimmy down chimneys and other such impossible looking entrances. Able to manage a whole team of mythical creatures, one with a particularly bulbous and shiny red nose. But a wheel chair aficionado?
Honestly, I kind of like him better when he sticks to asking me what I want for Christmas.
Shame on you, Santa. Shaammmme.
I still don't even know what he wanted to accomplish by telling us that. It's not like we were carrying the wheelchair, we were pushing it! Who cares how heavy it was?
Oh that was my cousin Roger…he's a wheelchair designer,things have been pretty slow at work, so he took a side job as Santa at the malll…ho ho ha
Did you have your "Inappropriate Questions answered here" shirt on again? Cause, you know, you Latshaws tend to get weird things like that happen all the time.
Pretty bummed it made Jenna cry. That is like anti-Santa.
Oh actually Jenna didn't cry! See, I was playing out the scenario if the condition WAS permanent and how awkward santa's question would hve been then, with the potential to bring tears…sorry for the confusion…:/
and ps Jean, tell Roger to stick to the traditional Santa lines…!