The OG Bad Santa
Christmas always takes me back to memories of my grandparents—and Grandpa was a no-nonsense kind of man who despite his straightforward demeanor, was beloved by everyone who knew him. If something didn’t interest him, he made no effort to fake it. A farmer through and through, his first question to me often wasn’t about how school was going but about our rain gauge: “How much rain did you get last night?”
Grandma, on the other hand, was warm and curious. She loved hearing every detail of my day, especially about the boys in my class, and happily kicked off games of pickup sticks and paper dolls. She even crafted an incredibly detailed dollhouse for us, complete with tiny handmade curtains and miniature furniture. But my favorite memories are of us gathered around the old dial TV, laughing at I Love Lucy and indulging in malted milk balls.
One Christmas stands out as the most ridiculous and unforgettable. That year, my grandparents promised to take us to see Santa at the mall. Thrilled, I threw on my Christmas dress and pulled my sister Meredith along to the kitchen, excited to announce we were ready. My Christmas wish list was burning a hole in my pocket!
Grandma piled the two of us into Grandpa’s truck, ready for the adventure, when less than a mile down the road he suddenly exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be darned. We don’t have to go all the way to town—Santa came to us!” Confused, I looked out the window to see a scrawny figure in a red suit lounging in a lawn chair. “That’s not Santa!” I blurted.
But Grandpa was already pulling Meredith from the truck and plopping her onto the imposter’s lap. Reluctantly, I followed, muttering how Grandma had promised the real Santa would be at the mall. Grandpa was unfazed. He whipped out a camera and proudly declared he could take our picture with Santa right then and there.
As Meredith awkwardly posed, I couldn’t resist the temptation. I reached out and yanked the elastic beard right off the "Santa’s" face. “I’m telling Grandma!” I warned, but Grandpa just laughed, his eyes twinkling with pride for his conquest.
It wasn’t until weeks later, when I saw my mom’s reaction to the photo, that I fully appreciated the hilarity of that day.
Merry Christmas and to all, and to all a good night.