A Complaining Santa

A Complaining Santa

  Mrs. Claus: Are you feeling better, Dear? How about a nice, hot cup of coffee?

Santa (throwing back the quilts and rolling out of bed): Just what I need. The trip was hard this year.

Mrs. Claus: Did the reindeer behave? Was the sleigh over-loaded? Did you face a head-wind?

Santa: Yes, no, and no. It’s all those sophisticated toys! I got a late start, you know. Those elves in the workshop played with every video game they made. Why, one of them even hid a game, hoping I wouldn’t notice. Addicted to them! That’s what they are. Everything either has a battery or hooks up to the internet and I’m always worried that I’ll get something wrong. I don’t understand these new-fangled terms. In my day, a mouse had four legs and ran around the house, a tweet was something a bird did and posts were in the ground holding up fences.

Mrs. Claus (giggling): Times change, toys and gadgets change. Maybe one of those days, it’ll come full circle and children will start asking for things like wooden blocks, rocking horses…

Santa (a far-away look in his eyes): Toy cars that have never seen a battery, toy trains that wind up, ball gloves, bats…

Mrs. Claus: You read all the children’s letters including the emails, you brought what they asked for as much as you could; you did your best. No wonder you’re tired, dear. You had a lot of ground to cover.

Santa (sitting at the table): Delicious chocolate chip cookies, Mrs. Claus. That’s something else. Did you know that, in today’s technical terms, a cookie is not something you hold in your hand and nibble; why, even chips are not chocolatey–they are–well, anyway, they have absolutely no nutritional value.

Mrs. Claus (pouring another round of coffee): Forget about it all for now. As you say, maybe next year old-fashioned toys will be back and you’ll have an easier time of it. The elves have fed the reindeer and they are all snug in the barn. It’s snowing again, and if you listen hard, I’m sure you’ll hear the sound of hammering and sawing as all your little helpers in the workshop start on next year’s toys. Why not go ask them if they’d like to build a snowman or have a snowball fight?


Santa: Good idea! I’ll do that, right after I take a look at this new game. (He pulls his near-empty sack from a corner and reaches into its depths) My helpers packed one too many and I need to see if I can beat my last score.

Mrs. Claus: Santa! You don’t mean that you too have succumbed to the lure of the internet?

Santa: It was a long trip, my dear, and, with the reindeer on auto-pilot, I–um–well, never let it be said that Santa isn’t keeping up with the times.

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