Timothy Sees Santa

Timothy prided himself on always being first and last in line to see Santa. He had to be first, so that the man in red would see that Timothy was serious about Christmas. And then he had to be last, so that his gift request was certain to be stuck in Santa’s mind. For normal kids, it would have been impossible for them to convince their parents to stay at the shopping centre all day. Luckily for Tim, his mother was a store manager, and she had to stay there all day.

“And what’s your name, young man?” Santa asked once Timothy had climbed onto his lap. The man had a massive white beard which was so long that it formed a cushion for Tim to sit on, but it was a little scratchy on his legs. He wore the typical red costume -Timothy was sure Santa only had one pair of clothes- and his white gloves were warm, as if the old man had been holding a mug of cocoa. Which Timothy knew he probably had, since hot cocoa was a delicacy at the North Pole.

“My name is Timothy Cartwright, and it’s a pleasure to see you, Santa.” He folded his hands neatly together, and maintained a straight posture. When talking to Santa, you not only had to speak politely, but you also had to act politely. That way the man in red would put you at the top of his ‘nice’ list and you’d be guaranteed to get your preferred gift.

Santa ho-ho-hoed.. As his belly heaved up and down with each streak of laughter, so did Tim’s small body. “The pleasure is all mine, Timothy. Now, what would you like for Christmas?”

“Well…” Timothy quickly went through his words one last time in his mind. He knew that correct phrasing was crucial in pleasing Santa. You had to name what you wanted in detail, because if you didn’t tell the old man exactly what you wanted, he wouldn’t know what to get you. But you also couldn’t sound too greedy, so you had to throw in words that made your big wish seem smaller. “I only want one thing for Christmas, please Santa. In the third aisle of the toy store, there’s a green pickup truck, about this size.” he held his hands up to indicate its length. Santa listened intently, nodding his head. “It doesn’t use batteries or anything, but that’s okay, because the pickup truck doesn’t need it, because I can use my imagination to make the truck go.” You had to make yourself sound clever, too. “That’s what I’d like for Christmas.”

“I see.” The man in red stroked his itchy white beard. Timothy wondered why he didn’t bother shaving the mass of hair off, like Tim’s dad did every morning. But he didn’t ask Santa that, of course. You should never ask Santa questions, you only answer them.

The old man looked over Timothy’s shoulder at a female elf, who held a basket of candy canes. Timothy knew from experience that the elves didn’t serve any real purpose at the supermarket. All they did was hand out sweets; they would have been better off working at the North Pole. So, he was very surprised when Santa asked the elf, “Did you hear all that?”

“Yes, sir!” The female replied and a couple of eager kids started laughing at her overly cheerful, squeaky voice. Tim silently scowled at them. Those kids were amateurs; you never bullied Santa’s helpers. They would forever be stuck on the naughty list now, he was sure of it.

“Well then,” Santa bellowed, “the elves will write down your request, Timothy, and I’ll do my best to get you that pickup truck at Christmas.” Tim wanted to point out that the female elf didn’t have a pen or any paper with her, but he just had to trust that Santa knew what he was doing. And if the man in the Santa suit didn’t know what he was doing, then no one did.

“Thank you very much, Mister Christmas.” Timothy smiled, showing his freshly brushed, sparkling white teeth. His teeth weren’t the only things he’d brushed though; his hair had also been oiled and combed back. You not only had to speak politely and act politely, you also had to look like a polite little boy.

“You’re very welcome.” Santa patted him on the back. Tim knew from previous years that this was his cue to jump down from Santa’s lap and make way for the next child in line, so that’s what he quickly did.

As he passed the female elf and took his candy cane, Timothy considered that he should probably do some sucking up. He normally ignored the elves, but this year they were apparently playing a large role in the gift-giving process: writing down everyone’s requests.

“I am awfully grateful, ma’am,” Tim tipped an imaginary hat and bowed, just like he’d seen a man do in one of his mum’s old black and white movies.

“What a gentleman!” The elf giggled and blushed as she squeaked in reply, making Timothy think he’d done the perfect job. But that was only part one of his Christmas scheme. Tim would have to return in the evening and make sure he saw Santa again, just before the man in red packed up and returned to the North Pole. It was essential that he reminded the old man of his request, and this year, he’d also have to check that the elf had actually written it down. Overall, though, Timothy was very confident that, come Christmas morning, he would be the proud new owner of a green pickup truck.