HonestPirate
Well-Known Member
okay, so last year I figure it'll be a kick for my 7 yr old girl if she sees Santa on Xmas morning. So I pull an all nighter and at 5 am put on the suit and the beard, and then realise that the wig is missing from the costume bag. So I frantically search the house for something that will cover my long dark hair.
....half an hour later and the mop has been removed from its handle; its been trimmed down and stuffed under the hat, but there's still heaps of my hair showing- so I find a baby white towel and put it on over the top of the stinky mop wig and then scrunch the hat on.
I take a look in the mirror- besides the fact that I now look like some kind of homeless dirty haired Santa; I also have the added bonus of looking like The Abu Dhabi version of Santa thanks to the sheik-like towel. Knowing how onto it my daughter is, I decide sunglasses may help to hide the eyebrow ring and blue eyes my daughter will IMMEDIATELY recognise as mine.
So we've laid the foundations already; we've told my daughter that Santa might pay a visit; but not to say anything or let him see herwhen/if he comes in the room; many kids have missed out on toys because they looked hard at Santa and he got freaked out and ran out without remembering to leave presents- we told her this to eliminate the risk of her checking me out for too long and seeing red (pun intended). So my wife and daughter are snuggled under her blanket asleep-
Time for the opening act.....
"Oh my goodness, SANTA !!!" I say in my Dad voice from the safety of the living room where I am out of sight.
"Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas" I say back in typical Santa tones.
Dad: "are you going into Charlie's room ?"
Santa: Ho Ho Ho yes Tone, I have a special present for Charlie, has she been good ?
Dad: She sure has Santa, she left you a beer as well.
Santa: Im going to drink the whole lot now.
(which I do right there on the spot; Im a method actor, right ?)
So Santa goes into my daughter's room. I can see her peaking ever so slightly at me, but my wise wife covers her up again. I walk around and pick up the cookies for Rudolph and the letter she left for Santa. Then I lean over and whisper Merry Christmas, and place a baby bluetongue in her hands. She is shaking out of excitement and my heart skips a beat. That's ALL she wanted for Xmas.
Now- it's time for Santa to get the you-know-what outta dodge before he gets caught out as the fraudster that he is. So I make my way to the door and leave quickly. Dad says "bye Santa" out of sight.
Now.... I get outside and I KNOW she is going to be up any second; I'm praying my wife keeps her in bed long enough for me to get changed and get back inside. But the verandah is right outside her window- so I have to go out into the street to rip everything off.
I realise that in my haste I didnt organise any clothing to swap into- but it's 6 am and noone is about- so I rip it all off and am now standing in my undies in the street- not even a shirt.
I hear a slam-
Oh NOOOOOOOOOOO ..........!!!!!!!!!
The front door has closed.
They are both in bed and Im standing in my undies with the evidence of Christmas fakery in my hands. Im locked out but I cant call out for help.
The only way in is by scaling the back verandah supports; basically a height of ten metres behind the house- a huge X shaped wooden beam support with two old beams that cross each other in the middle- just like that trick where you draw a house without taking the pen off the paper. Our house is almost 100 yrs old- an old colonial Queenslander- and the wood is REEEEAL old, rough and FULL of Splinters. Plus I have no shoes and just my undies; Im tired and I just sculled a beer..
I still don't know how I did it to this day- imagine a bloke with no shoes walking up a 4 inch wide piece of wood like a tightrope, except instead of horizontal, the thing is pitched at 45 degrees- so I need to go foot over foot with nothing to hold onto - the first beam goes up 5 metres from ground level, then I have to do a 180 and walk up the other beam in identical fashion; then when I hit the top which is our back verandah, I need to reach up and over and do the chinup from hell; much like that final move at the top of a rocklcimbing wall.
By the time I get to the top, my feet are bleeding from multiple scrapes and Ive got a couple of 2 inch splinters that have dug deep into each foot. I almost slip once but manage to dig a foot into the wood somehow to keep my balance.
But I MAKE it.......... straight to the fridge for the second beer of the morning; it doesnt even touch the sides. And my little one is none the wiser. I pray the neighbours across the valley havent seen the tattooed bloke in his undies scale the back of the house and have called the authorities.
so now it's 2011.
THIS year; it's Dad that is crashing in the little one's bed; and oh yes it's Mummy's turn in the suit. Let's hope this year Mummy is not a method actor also. My daughter always recounts Santa visiting by telling everyone that Santa is cool because he wears Sunnies because it is really bright in Australia and where Santa is from it's not so bright.
.......if only she knew that her Dad barely survived two North Poles.
....half an hour later and the mop has been removed from its handle; its been trimmed down and stuffed under the hat, but there's still heaps of my hair showing- so I find a baby white towel and put it on over the top of the stinky mop wig and then scrunch the hat on.
I take a look in the mirror- besides the fact that I now look like some kind of homeless dirty haired Santa; I also have the added bonus of looking like The Abu Dhabi version of Santa thanks to the sheik-like towel. Knowing how onto it my daughter is, I decide sunglasses may help to hide the eyebrow ring and blue eyes my daughter will IMMEDIATELY recognise as mine.
So we've laid the foundations already; we've told my daughter that Santa might pay a visit; but not to say anything or let him see herwhen/if he comes in the room; many kids have missed out on toys because they looked hard at Santa and he got freaked out and ran out without remembering to leave presents- we told her this to eliminate the risk of her checking me out for too long and seeing red (pun intended). So my wife and daughter are snuggled under her blanket asleep-
Time for the opening act.....
"Oh my goodness, SANTA !!!" I say in my Dad voice from the safety of the living room where I am out of sight.
"Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas" I say back in typical Santa tones.
Dad: "are you going into Charlie's room ?"
Santa: Ho Ho Ho yes Tone, I have a special present for Charlie, has she been good ?
Dad: She sure has Santa, she left you a beer as well.
Santa: Im going to drink the whole lot now.
(which I do right there on the spot; Im a method actor, right ?)
So Santa goes into my daughter's room. I can see her peaking ever so slightly at me, but my wise wife covers her up again. I walk around and pick up the cookies for Rudolph and the letter she left for Santa. Then I lean over and whisper Merry Christmas, and place a baby bluetongue in her hands. She is shaking out of excitement and my heart skips a beat. That's ALL she wanted for Xmas.
Now- it's time for Santa to get the you-know-what outta dodge before he gets caught out as the fraudster that he is. So I make my way to the door and leave quickly. Dad says "bye Santa" out of sight.
Now.... I get outside and I KNOW she is going to be up any second; I'm praying my wife keeps her in bed long enough for me to get changed and get back inside. But the verandah is right outside her window- so I have to go out into the street to rip everything off.
I realise that in my haste I didnt organise any clothing to swap into- but it's 6 am and noone is about- so I rip it all off and am now standing in my undies in the street- not even a shirt.
I hear a slam-
Oh NOOOOOOOOOOO ..........!!!!!!!!!
The front door has closed.
They are both in bed and Im standing in my undies with the evidence of Christmas fakery in my hands. Im locked out but I cant call out for help.
The only way in is by scaling the back verandah supports; basically a height of ten metres behind the house- a huge X shaped wooden beam support with two old beams that cross each other in the middle- just like that trick where you draw a house without taking the pen off the paper. Our house is almost 100 yrs old- an old colonial Queenslander- and the wood is REEEEAL old, rough and FULL of Splinters. Plus I have no shoes and just my undies; Im tired and I just sculled a beer..
I still don't know how I did it to this day- imagine a bloke with no shoes walking up a 4 inch wide piece of wood like a tightrope, except instead of horizontal, the thing is pitched at 45 degrees- so I need to go foot over foot with nothing to hold onto - the first beam goes up 5 metres from ground level, then I have to do a 180 and walk up the other beam in identical fashion; then when I hit the top which is our back verandah, I need to reach up and over and do the chinup from hell; much like that final move at the top of a rocklcimbing wall.
By the time I get to the top, my feet are bleeding from multiple scrapes and Ive got a couple of 2 inch splinters that have dug deep into each foot. I almost slip once but manage to dig a foot into the wood somehow to keep my balance.
But I MAKE it.......... straight to the fridge for the second beer of the morning; it doesnt even touch the sides. And my little one is none the wiser. I pray the neighbours across the valley havent seen the tattooed bloke in his undies scale the back of the house and have called the authorities.
so now it's 2011.
THIS year; it's Dad that is crashing in the little one's bed; and oh yes it's Mummy's turn in the suit. Let's hope this year Mummy is not a method actor also. My daughter always recounts Santa visiting by telling everyone that Santa is cool because he wears Sunnies because it is really bright in Australia and where Santa is from it's not so bright.
.......if only she knew that her Dad barely survived two North Poles.
Thats the 'magic' of it! BUT a few years ago when we got the kids the trampoline.........we put it up way up the back & then dragged it closer to the house.......the next morning the kids thought that the 'drag' marks were sleigh tracks, they loved it!
