Santa–the very one!–visited a local bookshop on Sunday. The very thought of talking to the Big Guy was overwhelming to little Tess. She never looked at him directly, and neither daughter has ever complied with my request that they stand in the general proximity of Mr Claus (I gave up on the idyllic sitting -on -Santa’s -lap photos years ago). So we are left with the awe of a figure so immense that one must stand perpendicular to them at all times and submit one’s wish list, "A candy cane and a bunny backpack," to the intermediary (aka Daddy) who can then pass it along to Santa.
Ah, the blessed perpendicular. Who do I hold in such awe that I can only address them from an angle, I wonder?
As he leaves that bookstore and journeys back to the North Pole for the series of all-nighters that no doubt await him, Santa is left to wonder where on earth one finds a bunny backpack. He is also left to wonder why the dear little gaze-averting creature has never ever once in her whole entire life mentioned a bunny backpack until eleven days before Christmas.
But that’s why he gets paid the Big Bucks, to read minds and deliver.