For three years I have read about the water skiing Santa that puts on a show every Christmas Eve. Lucy has either been too young or we have been out of town to take part. This year, though, Lucy and I treated ourselves to this silly tradition and we both loved it.
It was cold. Really, really cold. Icicles covered the hoses around the docks, the wind whipped straight through our clothes, we huddled together to keep warm and I would still do it again. The giggles that took over Lucy made it all worth it. She was a little uncertain as to what we were going to see, as was I. But once it started and the Grinch was antagonizing Frosty and the reindeer came out ahead of Santa and then Santa went by, with bag in hand, we were both sold. Before the show I gave her the whole "this is probably one of Santa's helpers" routines that every kid her age gets once or twice a year at this time. I really didn't know what to expect so I was setting the bar low. Once we got in the car after the show she said, "Momma, I think that was the real Santa. He came all the way from the North Pole to water ski. He was really good. Now he has to get back to the North Pole to fill his sleigh with toys for all the kids who aren't naughty." A believer can warm anybody, even on the coldest of days.
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