Santa in triplicate

[Should any “victim” chance upon this account and put 2 and 2 together, I hereby swear you to secrecy.]

This year it was time to induct two of my older nephews into the ancient family tradition of the Secret Santa Cookie Drop Run (it didn’t have capitals when I was a kid; in fact I don’t think it had an official name at all … but we did it most years). Grandma/Mum did all the cooking as usual (if it was left to me, it’d never happen), and then this year managed to find enough costume ingredients for the three of us and had even shortened the trousers to make them a little more convenient for my growing-but-shorter-legged nephews, although M’s arms disappeared into the sleeves of the jacket, and none of us had a belt that functioned particularly well.

Most of this year’s “victims” were new to the list, so Grandpa/Dad — as driver — managed to get us lost a few times en route (“Left. LEFT. LLLLLEEEEEEFFFFTTTTT!!!!”). We have since noted that we also need to retrain him as getaway car driver, because waiting until everyone has slammed the doors and fastened their seatbelts before actually starting the engine really increases the likelihood of being identified (which, rumour has it, we were … at least twice) and, frankly, just lacks style and panache and adrenaline rush.

As we travelled the streets we had waves and bemused looks from passersby; and then we’d do our sneaky approach to the front door, before doing the drop, knock and run-like-crazy back to the car parked further down the street or around a convenient corner (with its engine off (did I mention we need to work on that?!)). We didn’t have any really close encounters — of the kind requiring (i) a nonchalant but convincing “Ho Ho Ho”, (ii) placing the gift in victim’s hands, and (iii) turning and running like crazy because this bit is essential to the whole occasion — but we know a few people saw our departure (and one managed to get the number plate (and another recognised the car anyway) … which reminds me that we need to work on the speed of the vehicle’s getaway, perhaps by — ooh, I don’t know — maybe, starting the engine sooner 🙂 !).

In past years, we wouldn’t always know much about the impact of our visits, apart from the occasional mention from a grateful but unsuspecting victim from Church, who might express thanks in a general broadcast message to the congregation or similar. However, this year the auspices of facebook provided us with some fairly prompt feedback …

And my nephews really enjoyed the whole thing.

So did I.

Even the slow getaways, and yet more beard fluff coming close to being ingested.