Visit the Photo Place

Mall Santas can be frightening for kids

Mall Santas should like kids

Date published: 12/10/2003

IN MY MOTHER'S HOUSE sits a framed picture I try to avoid. It's just a little photo in a silver frame, a photo of my mother and me, my two sons and Santa Claus.

Who could hate a picture of Santa? In the photo, my oldest son, who was 2 or 3 at the time, is crying and looking like he was in the middle of a torture session. The younger son is squirming in his haste to break away from the mall Santa.

But the worst face belongs to Santa himself. The jolly old man looks, well, anything but jolly. His eyes seem to be crying out for help, to be rescued or just put out of his misery.

Just looking at that photo brings back bad memories. My mother--who can remember when I also considered being forced to sit upon that large, red lap to be exquisite torture--just laughs at the photo.

The picture, for a long time, just reminded me of all the things I would never have. Sometime about the time of the disastrous visit to St. Nick, I had learned both of my sons were autistic.

Standing in line at the mall, I saw all the other children dressed in their holiday best bringing long lists of Christmas wishes and smiling prettily for Santa.

I overheard other parents complain about the long lists and messed-up hairdos. I would have given anything to be those parents.

Returning to my childhood belief in magic, I hoped that somehow Santa might have the magic balm to make it all better. I knew he couldn't cure autism or anything like that, but a whispered kind word, even a jolly wink, could have made me feel better.

But Santa made it clear he could barely tolerate my children, that if he had his way, kids like mine would be banned from his lap.

Another mall Santa also lacked compassion for children with disabilities. When my son's special education preschool class took a field trip to the mall, Santa could be heard lamenting that no one warned him that kids "like that" would be coming.

I thought I had outgrown my childhood distaste for the man in red. But it came back with a fervor my childhood self could not have dreamed of.

Follow us on

Date published: 12/10/2003