On the way to Norman, Oklahoma, to visit The Pony, Farmer H was having a heyday with me as a captive audience. He was regaling me with tales of his junking business, like how much he spent, and how much he sold stuff for. All the while, I was being whipped side-to-side by his sweaving, my neck mimicking the motion of a snake charmer's cobra, unable to nod off for a restful nap thanks to Farmer H's droning because of the roar of the bumpity-bump lines when he crossed the center or onto the shoulder.
"And I got a bunch of stuff for my Santa kids. I have some little cars, and some balls, and some other stuff at the auction. This age, it doesn't matter so much if it's for boys or girls, because they like everything."
Let the record show that Farmer H has played Santa for a local Parents As Teachers group for many years. He doesn't HAVE to provide toys, but he does. One year he took The Pony with him to hand him stuff out of his sack. I know The Pony dressed in a red sweatshirt and wore a Santa hat, but he drew the line at elf shoes.
"Oh. When are you doing that this year?"
"On the 16th."
"No."
"Yeah. The 16th. I have her text about it. I can look it up."
"Genius graduates on the 16th. We will be in College Town. I already got the room for the 15th, so we'll be down there all morning and afternoon on the 16th."
"Huh. I better call her!"
No answer. The lady was probably screening her calls. When we stopped at a stoplight in the next town, Farmer H sent a text. Another 60 miles down the road, he got a response. We were at a rest area at the time, though I don't think texting while driving could make Farmer H's sweaving any worse.
"Yeah. She says we can do it the 9th. It's a little early, but the kids won't mind. As long as it's on a Saturday close to Christmas."
This afternoon, I checked my phone after putting away groceries and retiring to my dark basement lair. There was a 20-minute-old text from my sister the ex-mayor's wife.
"Whenever you have time, will you check with Farmer H to see what day breakfast with Santa is? Our PAT lady told me it was on the 16th. Just got a text from her reminding me it is on the 9th????????" (Sis babysits her granddaughter, Babe, during the week)
"They had to change it. Genius graduates on the 16th. I told Farmer H on the way to Oklahoma and he called her and they changed it. Good thing, or a lot of kids would have been stood up by SANTA!"
Let the record show that in place of SANTA I used a Santa emoji.
Because I'm cool like that.
6 comments:
HM--I'm waaay cooler than you. I use these regularly in my emails and texts:
;)
Sioux,
Let the record show that I am RETIRED, and we elderly are not good with those flashy gewgaws that are accessories to technology. That bulging record also contains evidence of an exchange with The Pony concerning my emoji literacy. Perhaps I'll share that here or there.
It's a good thing that all got sorted before the happenings.
River,
YES! Because one time, Santa DID NOT SHOW UP! Farmer H used to play Santa for the daycare lady who took care of the boys. She only accepted 10 kids, all under school age. She'd put them down for their nap, and Santa would come while they were asleep, pick up the bag of gifts she had bought them and set outside the door. They'd catch him in the act, and he'd let them sit on his knee and tell him what they wanted.
Farmer H completely FORGOT about it. He used to take the day off work and everything. But this time, he didn't. It was after our boys had "graduated" from daycare. I felt SO BAD when she called me to see if he was running late. I think I might have cried a little, thinking of those disappointed kids. It was right before her Christmas break, so Farmer H couldn't just go the next day. I was already home on my own Christmas vacation. Sad times! She brought in the bag herself, and told the kids that Santa must have been very busy, and left them gifts because they were asleep.
Nice that Farmer H likes to give toys to the kids. We have a Santa living in the park now, but only 2 children. Santa needs to clear his schedule with Mrs. Santa!!
Kathy,
Farmer H grew up with nothing, and he likes to give when he can. Like all men, Santa needs the organizational skills of the Mrs. to survive.
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