Felony in a Santa Suit

What a parent wouldn't do for his kids on Christmas?

A parent would do anything for their kids, during the holidays. At least that’s what I told myself as I slid down the chimney, dressed as a Santa Claus, robbing a rich house in the hills. 

These streets were so full of money so there was no way anyone would care right? I just did it for the kids, you know? We were dirt poor and I just didn’t have it in me, to tell them that Santa forgot about us again, that he just visited his friends and passed on our house. 

It is wild how Santa Claus has a way of making sure, that the value of gifts the kid gets is linked to their parent’s income — or even the presence of said gifts.

I couldn’t let them down again… So I slid the last couple of inches and stepped into the cold fireplace in a living room bigger than our whole house. 

My mind was blown away. Countertops built of marble, furniture of expensive dark wood, and exquisite almost mirror-like floors. Everything that my eyes laid on was more expensive than my existence and the tree put a finishing touch to an already painful reality check. 

Solid eight feet of blue spruce with tons of gold and white decorations, soft silver lights, and fake snow everywhere around the tree, and then there were boxes… so many of them, that my paycheck wouldn’t even cover the wrapping paper. 

I stood there, totally flabbergasted looking over the riches, that I had never seen. 

“Santa?” a soft voice broke the silence around me. 

I turned, wide-eyed, my red hat almost falling of my head. My eyes met with the eyes of a boy, about eight years old. He was just standing there, clutching a Snorlax plushie from Pokémon. 

“Oh shit!” I mumbled, “Hey kid! What are you doing here?” He wasn’t supposed to be there, the people from the house left this morning for some kind of a trip… surely they would bring their kid with them right? Right?
The boy tilted his head and shuffled his tiny feet to the sofa, where he sat down hugging his plushie. “I heard a noise, I thought it might be you Santa…” 

“Oh… Okay… You- Well it’s me, yes. But you should be in bed! Seeing me is bad luck!” that was the lamest sentence I was able to muster, but I couldn’t admit, that I was there to steal his toys. 

The kid just shrugged his shoulders. “I guess. I just wanted to ask you something.” 

He waddled his feet, not looking at me, his gaze more interested in the candy socks on his tiny feet. 

“What did you want to ask me?” I looked around, it looked like nobody else was coming so I pulled up a heavy chair from the dining table — probably also more expensive than all of my furniture. 

“If-if you could maybe… bring my parents home for Christmas Morning…” he sobbed a little, squishing the tiny Snorlax in his hands. Still avoiding my eyes. 

The words stopped in my throat. “Where are they?” 

“They went away, they often do…” he looked at the pictures over the gigantic fireplace and I followed his eyes. There were a ton of pictures, of mountains, beaches and different cities. But they were alone in most of them. 

“So you are alone in here?” 

He nodded. 

“All alone? Nobody is taking care of you?”

“Miss Gretski comes in the morning… She takes care of me when Papa and Mama are away,” he sobbed, “she is a nice lady, I like her.” 

I didn’t really know what to do. How could I tell him, that I’m not actually the Santa Claus and I can’t make his wish come true. I gestured to the mountain of presents “Look I brought a lot of gifts with me!” I said, trying to cheer him up. 

He raised his shoulders. “That’s nice, I guess.” 

“Aren’t you happy? You will get to play with so many new toys!” 

“I guess… but it sucks to play with anything without mom and dad here…” 

Those words hit me like a hammer. What was I even doing? I got caught on the first try, this kid didn’t seem to call the cops but still. If I would get caught… My kids would never get the Christmas morning they could… toys or no toys. Without me, they would end up all alone… just like this poor guy, with everything he wants at his fingertips, and yet… he has nothing of what he wants. 

“That sucks my dude…” I patted his shoulder, my beard sliding down a bit. 

“You are not the real Santa, are you?” He didn’t seem surprised, just kind of giving up.

“No, I’m not… I-I’m actually no saint at all… I’m a terrible person.”

“You seem nice to me,” said the little guy, jumping from the sofa and going under the Christmas tree, he grabbed one of the giant packages with both hands, struggling to lift it up. He then shuffled back to me and handed it over. “Here. Take it.” 

“Oh thank you… Why are you giving this to me?” 

He spread his arms in a clear sign of not knowing. “I think you need it more than me.”

I took the present and held it tight. Whatever it was, it would probably make my kids happier than anything. Yet I knew I couldn’t take it. Not like this. “Thank you,” I said and set it aside, “but I can’t accept such a generous offering. You should keep it.” 

His brows came together. Twisting his chubby child face into a frowning grimace. “I insist!” he said and pushed it towards me, his commanding voice clearly caught from his parents. 

That made me laugh. He probably didn’t know why I was laughing, but my laughter seemed contagious enough so he began to laugh as well. 

“What are we laughing about?” I asked, catching my breath. 

“I don’t know. You laughed first!” 

“Yeah, I guess I did… You sure I can take this?” 

He nodded and pushed the present closer. 

“Okay! Okay!” I raised my arms. “If you insist little sir!” 

“I insist!” He said again, the commanding voice lingering at the edges of his soft childish blabbering. 

“Okay,” I smiled at him and pinched his nose. “Listen, kid. I gotta go. But thank you. I will never forget this, but please never tell anyone that I was here. It could be our little Christmas secret!” 

“I won’t. Promise!” he said and raised his pinky. 

My smile widened as I locked my pinky with his. “Promise,” we whispered simultaneously. 

I was just about to leave when he gestured for me to wait and shuffled away to the other room. I heard a clatter of plates and in a minute he was back, with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. 

“Santa always eats and drinks this before he leaves right?” 

“You are a good kid,” I said running my hand through his messy hair. 
The cookies were delicious and the milk nicely helped them down my throat. 

I left the house through the front door, the kid was waving at me as I walked away. With the giant present, full belly, and a ton of thoughts on my mind. 

A parent would do anything for their kids, but when it involves a felony on Christmas, he should think twice if it’s worth it. Because nothing is worth more than the time spent with your family.

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