Mr. F's company does two holiday parties every year. One for the grown ups, where we get dressed up, eat ridiculously good food, and get a night out. The other is for the children of the employees. I had never heard of such a tradition but immediately thought it was the best idea ever when Mr. F reported it to me last year.
Well, since he's the new guy and we are still bambinoless, Mr. F was the perfect candidate to be Santa. Last year he was asked last minute and I completely missed out on seeing him. This year I got to experience the full glory of my husband being Jolly Old St. Nick.
Mr. F did really well with it, especially since he doesn't speak Greek and most of the kids were young enough that they definitely didn't speak English. My favorite part of the experience was when one little boy's name was called and he ran to sit on Santa's lap. He had been waiting all evening for his chance to see the Big Guy and couldn't hold back his enthusiasm when his turn finally came. Such innocent joy...
And then there were us "grown-ups" who wanted our own chance to see Santa... Mr. F referred to me as Mrs. Claus all night. I think there are worse nicknames out there, don't you?
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