It happened twenty years before I sat down to write this. It was Thanksgiving, in the year 2006, at the North Pole. For Mrs. Claus and Santa, Thanksgiving is their favorite holiday! Of course, Christmas is amazing, but let’s face it, they are always very busy on that particular day. Thanksgiving is their time to take a much-needed break from all the present making and it’s their time to give thanks for all the blessings they have. And then there is the food. So much food. So much delicious mouthwatering food.
So, there they were at the dining room table. All the fixin’s were there. Santa had his extra special big plate in front of him. Mrs. Claus had her normal plate. They bowed their heads, held hands, as Santa said grace. “Ruba-dub-dub. Thanks for the grub. Yay God!”. Mrs. Claus raised her head and announced with great glee “Let us Begin! Let’s all dig in!”. The bowls were passed around, big heaping spoons of stuffing, cranberry sauce, candied yams, Jello, those little dill pickles, turkey, mashed potatoes, and on and on.
Santa had a peculiar ritual; one he followed every year. He always started at the bottom of his big plate. He then worked his way up the right side of his plate until the food came back around to the bottom. A large hole in the middle was saved for the star of the show, turkey! Turkey and gravy. What food went around the edge of the plate didn’t matter, but turkey and gravy always came last and always in the middle. This particular year…. at 6 o’clock (the bottom of the plate), carrots. 5 o’clock, Brussels sprouts. 4 o’clock, yams. 3 o’clock, stuffing. And so on… At 9 o’clock Santa plopped a big heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes.
"Oh, my word! I forgot to put the gravy on the table!” Mrs. Claus exclaimed. She jumped out of her chair and grabbed the gravy bowl from the counter. “I’ve got it. Hold on dear.” He was getting close to adding the turkey. As she turned back to the table, to her surprise, Santa had a tear in his eye. A tear running down his chubby cheek as he stared at his plate. “What’s wrong?” she asked. As she looked at his plate, she saw what was the matter. She let go of the gravy bowl. In slow motion, the bowl crashed to the floor. Gravy erupted everywhere. Mrs. Claus raised her hands to cover her mouth and with a soft cry she said “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I forgot. I’m sorry. I forgot to use instant. I’m sorry. Oh Santa. Oh, my dear sweet Santa”
Santa looked up at Mrs. Claus with a little smile. “It’s ok my love. It’s ok. It will be ok”. Another tear fell from his eye.
It had happened 20 years earlier to the day. Thanksgiving 1986. Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it? 20 years exactly for Mrs. Claus to forget. Was it a coincidence? I don’t know. But I do know it was definitely not done on purpose. There was simply too much love in her heart for Santa to ever hurt him.
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