Bad Santa

When Katie was in preschool she had an imaginary friend.  Not out of the ordinary for a child, but what was a little odd was who this friend was.  Katie's imaginary friend was Santa.

Yes, you heard me right.  "Ho, ho, ho!"  Wearing a red suit Santa.  Katie and Santa did everything together.  We had a special red plate we'd set at the table for Santa at dinner time.  Katie would play all day long with Santa.  Most disturbing, however, was the fact that Santa took baths and slept in the same bed as Katie.  Dave and I were not particularly thrilled with an old man dressed head to toe in red velveteen having such a close relationship with our little girl, but being as he was imaginary we decided to give him a little leeway.

Katie's preschool was on an every other day schedule.  She didn't go to school on Wednesdays and I had every Wednesday off from work.  Because of this schedule we spent Wednesdays running errands and as a treat for being good I'd take Katie out to lunch.

One of those Wednesday lunchtimes Katie and I were seated in a booth at one of our favorite restaurants.  After placing our order Katie colored while we waited for our food to arrive.  Our waitress stopped by to refill our drinks and ask if we needed anything.

At this time Katie took a big breath.  Anyone who had been with Katie out in public knows the fear a deep breath from our precious little girl can bring.  We never knew what would come out of her mouth, and this is one of those time I had wished she had come with a mute button.

Not even looking up from the picture she was coloring Katie made a statement.  "My Santa is in jail."  What?!?!?  Wait a minute, your Santa is in jail?  Why had we not heard any of this before a clueless waitress from the local restaurant asked if we need more tea?  Now, if that wasn't bad enough, she continues her little declaration.  "He is in jail because he has been hitting me."  Flat delivery.  No drama, no excitement, just a matter-of-fact statement.  "My Santa is in jail because he has been hitting me."  All without looking up from the little dot-to-dot coloring page our waitress had placed in front of Katie when we sat down.

Unsure what to make of that comment our waitress quickly turned and walked away.  She kept her visits to our table short after Katie's declaration.  As for Santa, he was never not-seen by us again.  No longer ate dinner at our table.  Didn't take baths or sleep with Katie anymore.  He was just gone.