Last week, I wrote about being old, but feeling young. Above, you’ll see a picture of me being old. Yes, that’s me. Playing Santa. I’m playing Santa. Santa Claus.

This is actually my third year playing Santa for the school. I’m not really sure how it happened. They were desperate for a Santa that year and I had yet to shave when they asked, so I was like, “Sure.”

Some well-off parent at the school got me the nifty, old school costume there. I assume they were European, whoever did it, because there’s a real Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish vibe to the costume. I got measured for it and everything and they did NOT scrimp on the materials. I look great in it. And even better, I use my real beard, coloring it gray with some kind of god-awful spray, the scent of which lingers for several days. It completes the look.

And I’m sorry…I don’t like to brag, but I’m a pretty damned good Santa. The reason I’m a teacher is because I’m good with kids and that goes double for when I’m Santa. I am quite good at getting even the skeptical kids to buy into the whole thing. And I can’t deny that there’s something that swells your ego when you realize you have THAT MUCH CONTROL over the livelihoods of these poor little children.

The little ones just get giddy with anticipation as they wait in line next to me, and I make it a point to devote my FULL attention to them as they walk up. They usually wait in line over to the side as I take pictures, and then, when one group leaves, I shift my attention over to the next kids in line and they always light up with such anticipation as they come over.

This year, we had a few skeptics. Th

ere was one little girl, she was maybe nine-years old, that came up to me and sat down and said, “Why didn’t you bring back my elf on the shelf?” She was clearly disappointed, and it seemed that the spirit of Christmas was gone. From there, we got into a little conversation, where I asked which elf it was. She told me the name(Pap was the name of the elf), and I expressed my exasperation at the notion that I couldn’t control Pap no matter how hard I tried, but that I would have a little talk with him to see if I could rectify the situation in the future. It didn’t take much to satisfy her, even though she clearly didn’t believe in Santa when she first came up to me. The truth of the matter was that all she wanted was to be nudged in the right direction.

One little boy yesterday was straight out of central casting when it came to cuteness. I was standing to the side, waiting to be introduced on stage and this little boy came up to me and seemed to be so excited he was floating. He was probably five or six years old and his smile could have powered at least thirty-thousand homes. He fluttered around me like a butterfly, yammering on so much that I had little clue as to what he was saying. But it didn’t matter, because I got the gist of what he was feeling.

We live in cynical times, folks. People get a little bit too caught up in their own lives; bills to pay, uncertainty about the future, politics, all that nonsense. And we get insulated by that cynicism. We seem to revel in it sometimes, both with what we read or watch or talk about it. And whenever we do that, we distance ourselves from experiencing things that might get us through the day. It’s so easy to be angry. It’s so easy to feel down. And we get caught in those loops because we never put ourselves in the position to feel joy.

You want to feel joy? Play Santa.

I’m not sure how often people get to interact with kids, though, and that’s pretty sad, because they really do inspire you to be better than what you are. Maybe you’re sick of your own kids. Maybe kids just aren’t your thing. But I kind of feel like everyone should try being Santa at least once. Have a look at some of these kids’ faces as they walk up to you. Watch as their fear or their skeptical nature starts to melt away when you walk over to them. Try to be cynical when one of them reaches over to whisper what present they want in your ear. Or better yet, wait until one of them gives you a gigantic, unvarnished, completely sincere hug and then walks away beaming.

You may find yourself wanting to play Santa every year.

Like me. For three hours, without a break, on a Saturday morning.

I wonder if I could make a career out of this.

MAURICE THE BEAVER: SUPER-SPECIAL COLLECTOR’S EDITIONS!

Hey! My collector’s editions of all of the Maurice books were published this week! And AMAZON IS HAVING A SALE! These are expensive books, so now’s your best time to purchase these things!

These books collect all ONE-THOUSAND of my comics. The black and white versions are the cheapo-mixes that give you just the comics. The COLLECTOR’S EDITIONS give you ALL THE COMICS in COLOR, plus bonus features in every comic.

I’m pretty proud of this work. It’s awesome. And the collector’s editions are spectacular, of course. Go check ‘em out!

If you’re interested, go here:

BOOK ONE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: AMERICAN PATRIOT (PAPERBACK)

BOOK ONE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: AMERICAN PATRIOT (HARDBACK)

BOOK TWO - MAURICE THE BEAVER: THESE ARE NOT MY MONKEYS (SUPER-SPECIAL COLLECTOR'S EDITION)

BOOK TWO - MAURICE THE BEAVER: THESE ARE NOT MY MONKEYS (BLACK & WHITE CHEAPO VERSION)

BOOK THREE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: HEY, FAT BEAVER! (SUPER-SPECIAL COLLECTOR'S EDITION)

BOOK THREE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: HEY, FAT BEAVER! (BLACK & WHITE CHEAPO VERSION)

BOOK FOUR - MAURICE THE BEAVER: F IS FOR FASCIST! (SUPER-SPECIAL COLLECTOR'S EDITION)

BOOK FOUR - MAURICE THE BEAVER: F IS FOR FASCIST! (BLACK & WHITE CHEAPO VERSION)

BOOK FIVE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD! (SUPER-SPECIAL COLLECTOR'S EDITION)

BOOK FIVE - MAURICE THE BEAVER: NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD! (BLACK & WHITE CHEAPO VERSION)