In the world, someone is always the smartest. Someone is the fastest. Someone is even the best at playing the game Operation, or working a jigsaw puzzle. In fact. there’s someone in the world who is the Best Organizer of Food in the Refrigerator. (But that’s not me. I do have a system. Well, sort of. Basically, the stuff in the front is good to eat. The stuff in the middle is probably safe to eat – as long as you try not to smell it or taste it. And the stuff in the back? You don’t even want to go there. What you need for that food is either an archeologist or some guys who wear those yellow protective suits like they wore on Breaking Bad, but without bringing in a Gus or a Tuco.)
So I figure if there is someone in the world who is the best in any given category, then, someone, somewhere has to be the worst.
My son is good at many things. He’s smart, funny, and creative. But he’s not one of Santa’s favorite customers. In fact, he’s probably Santa’s Least Favorite Customer in the World.
Now, there’s something you should probably know. My son is a great kid. He works hard, makes good grades, takes care of his responsibilities at home. But as a baby . . . let’s just say that at one time he was the Worst Baby in the World.
You might think I’m exaggerating. But I swear I’m not. He was like that kid on The Exorcist movie, except without the swiveling head. And yes, he did spew the green stuff, too. At least, most of the time it was green.
In fact, we were banned from eating at ALL Applebee’s restaurants for two years because of the Incident at the Mississippi Applebee’s. You may remember hearing something about it. If not, I can’t say any more about the subject because of the terms of the agreement. However, you might check out the CNN archives. Although, fortunately, we were able to leave before the camera crew arrived.
So why is Santa still hesitant about coming to see my son.
Again, I refer you to the CNN website where you should look for the Baby Photo With Santa Incident of 2006. My son was three at the time.
It all started with this great idea I had: Santa was going to appear at one of the local banks for pictures, and I was going to take my son. And we WOULD have a picture made, no matter how hard my son fought or how bad he acted.
Was it bad? I later found out that Santa needed two weeks in an unnamed hospital for treatments.
When we arrived at the bank, there was a line. Not a really big line, but a line.
And my son started crying. And crying. And then he added screaming to the mix. And when my son was young like this, he would often speak in the third person. So customers in the line were able to enjoy my son yelling such wonderful phrases as “S can’t like having his picture made,” and the always loveable line of “Sam can’t like having a picture with Santa.”
The wait stretched for an hour. And my son’s lungs were up to the task. For a solid hour, I held him as he cried and screamed. I got several smiles from the workers and people in the line, and a few sympathetic looks. Later that evening, and over the ensuing weeks, I received several anonymous death threats.
We finally made it to Santa’s lap, and my son stopped crying long enough to take his picture. And all the people in the bank actually applauded.
It was a lesson in patience for me. Of course, to this day, I still suffer from a hearing loss in one ear.
So, is my son still Santa’s least favorite customer? Well, let’s just say that when Christmas rolls around, we have to leave presents for Santa.