A Snapshot of Christmas Cheer--St. Nick and the Howling Baby

There was entirely too much Christmas cheer at Santa’s workshop at the Media City Mall in Burbank one recent Sunday afternoon. And we’re not talking about the cheer that comes out of a bottle.

In fact, some of the parents pushing their kids to Enjoy with a capital E the experience of being plopped on the broad lap of the red-suited man with a synthetic beard could have used a belt or two of the hard stuff to mellow them out.

Take the couple toting the tired infant, who could not have been more than six weeks old. He wore a tiny Santa suit and cap, and during the 45-minute wait for his first close encounter of the Christmas kind he kept nodding off on his Dad’s shoulder.

But this was no time for a nap. It was time to perform. These parents wanted photographs of their Munchkin smiling broadly at the camera from Santa’s warm embrace so badly that they seemed unaware that the whole experience was making the kid miserable.

And they wouldn’t settle for just one Polaroid. They bought the whole, 15-frame photographic package and they wanted toothless grins in every one--even though the smiles of children this young are more often gas bubbles than joy.

A mewl became a whimper, which grew into a sustained cry that escalated into a howl. To distract the tyke from his predicament, Mom and Dad performed a clumsy, animated dance behind the photographer. Next, Mom tried sitting next to Santa and holding the baby. Then Dad rotated into the seat.

Nothing worked. The kid’s face was as round and red as a Christmas tree ornament.

It seemed obvious that the catalyst for this family drama was the desire of these overeager parents, probably first-timers, to live out their own holiday fantasies. As adults, they were too old to worship at the altar of Santa Claus, where all pure desires for things that fuel the growth of the gross national product can be satisfied. But their kid could pay his respects, even if he couldn’t yet utter a syllable, let alone say “Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

The scene sounded familiar to Sandi Ruben, who runs a nationally known Santa school for Western Temporary Services in Thousand Oaks.

“Santa is such a good and positive spirit . . . that everyone wants to believe in him and they want this positive thing for their children,” she said. “Unfortunately, their time is very limited and they can’t always wait for when the child is rested and fed and in a good mood.”

She said Western Temporary Santas are trained to be as non-threatening as possible--to eschew booming “Ho! Ho! Ho’s!” and to never reach for a child. And they are instructed to gently suggest that parents return another time if a child is clearly frightened or unhappy.

But, she said, to preserve the holiday icon’s genial image, Santa “has to more or less sit and endure a screaming child if the parents insist on it.”

And these parents were insisting on it.

The kid’s agony forced those standing in a line that wound around the mall’s two-story faux Christmas tree--itself a grand symbol that bigger is better on this holiday--to consider whether they were there for their children or for themselves.

The next woman in line acknowledged that this was a reprise visit for her and her daughter, the two of them dressed in look-alike red outfits adorned with Christmas trees aglitter. A week earlier, the mother said, her 2-year-old daughter cried so much she had had to ask for a refund of the photo fee.

Now, they were back, after a week of pep talks and lectures about how much fun it was to sit on Santa’s lap.

Only to witness the ordeal of the hungry and tired 6-week-old.

Santa’s elf tried to prevent the unfolding debacle from setting off a ripple of fearful tears through the long line of parents holding tightly to their children’s hands, as if to keep them from bolting. He showed several of the children a picture book to divert their attention, while nervously glancing over his shoulder as the volume of the still-wailing infant’s cries rose.

Meanwhile, a crowd of shoppers gathered. They put down their packages and watched, expressionless, as the hapless parents continued their cajolery. The onlookers must have realized that the integrity of modern-day Christmas celebrations was on the line. And clearly, the way these parents were trying to force the kid to participate in this cultural ritual belied the idea that the holiday, even as practiced by the irreligious, is a magical time for children and a time of family renewal.

The parents waiting in line began to get upset. Above the hubbub and the Christmas carols of a nearby vocal group impatient pleading could be heard: “Hey, can’t you see the kid is hungry!” and “Let the kid go home!” and “He’s too young for this!”

If the kid’s Mom and Dad heard the talk they didn’t acknowledge it. The child had continued crying but by now the photographs, with most if not all showing the child in full squall, had been taken. And he was finally gathered up in his mother’s arms.

Seeing that the child had endured, the crowd disappeared into the furious movement of the mall.

But the lesson that had been acted out so vividly--that kids should be allowed to take Christmas at their own pace--was apparently lost on the parents determined that their kids would not only have it all, but do it all, this holiday.

The next little girl, the one who had been there the week before, bravely climbed into Santa’s lap. She looked scared. As her parents pleaded with her to smile, the corners of her mouth turned up just a bit and the camera flashed.

Just as two huge tears began to trickle down her cheeks.