Santa
“Mama,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I know Santa isn’t real.”
Regina stooped down, spidering her hand across Emma’s stomach. The girl jumped with a tiny squeak before falling against Regina’s side and laughing. “You would be surprised.”
Emma perked up a little, swinging off of Regina’s arm. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean,” Regina drawled as she pulled her baby to her hip. She pecked a kiss to Emma’s cold, rosy cheek, “that you are the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, and the sister-in-law to the Wicked Witch. You can’t possibly be surprised that Father Christmas is real too.”
Her brows knit together as she turned over that thought. They’d come to one of the nearest towns to Storybrooke to visit Santa’s Grotto and Emma was not reacting with quite the excitement that Regina had expected. The street was elaborately decorated with giant plastic candy canes, long strings of sparkly fairy lights, chipper elves, and photo opportunities in the shape of sleighs with presents and giant snow globes. At the far end was an oddly realistic cabin with what could only be described as a throne sitting out front. The line of kids and parents waiting for ten seconds with Santa made Regina’s stomach flip.
Emma’s feet rooted to the ground, large green eyes peering up at Regina for answers. “What is it, baby?”
Her lips pursed into the sweetest little pout. “Is Santa really real?”
Regina’s heart swelled at the genuineness in her baby’s expression. It wasn’t exactly a lie. She didn’t know every fairytale character. “Of course.”
She looked to the overweight man with the curly beard with a new reverence following Regina’s confirmation. They took themselves to the back of the queue, where Regina grit her teeth as opposed to saying anything. When she took Henry as a child, mayoral privileges had allowed them to skip straight to the front. Somehow she didn’t think she could play that card here.
Entertaining the five-year-old for the duration of the queue was not easy. She refused to stoop to placing a screen on front of her face, as many other parents had done. The sounds of several different kid’s shows grated against the too-loud Christmas music, and against Regina’s nerves. Nevertheless, she beamed at Emma as they played several rounds of I Spy, cloud spotting, Shopping List, and when all else failed, she danced with her to make her laugh.
Finally at the front of the queue, Emma tugged at Regina’s arm. “Mama, I wanna go.”
“What?” She crouched down so she was at eye level with Emma, who stared at her with pleading, watery eyes. “Emma, why would you want to leave?”
The girl shrugged and stepped into Regina’s side. “Don’t want to.”
She squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “Care to tell me why?”
“Do I have to?”
“Do you have to tell me why? Or do you have to see Santa?” Regina brushed Emma’s hair out of her face. “The answer to both is no.”
Emma shuffled between her feet, looking between the Santa saying goodbye to a little boy and the other side of the velvet ropes that would take them back to the street. Frustration was blaring in the back of Regina’s mind. If they had waited for almost forty minutes just for Emma to back out, she might scream. Henry had always been so enthusiastic to see Santa. Of course, he had the Heart of the Truest Believer and Emma was…Emma.
Emma sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, a sure sign that her anxiety was rising. To give her a little assurance, Regina lifted her to her hip, cradling her close. “You do not have to see him, but I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
The elf unclipped the rope to allow them through. Regina took a few steps closer and paused, allowing Emma to make up her mind about what they were to do. After a few beats of staring at the very kind looking man, Emma wiggled to the ground to stand on her own two feet.
She toddled up to the Santa, her fingers weaving together. If Regina had appreciated how nervous Emma would be, she would have allowed her to bring one of her toys or her blanket as a comfort. Perhaps she should have anticipated this. Guilt over her lack of preparation burned in her gut.
Santa beamed at her over his oval glasses. “Hello, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma!” He extended his gloved hands to her. “What a beautiful name. Is this your mommy with you?” She nodded, taking a couple of steps closer. Sensing her discomfort, he shifted the attention. “Do your shoes light up? Can I see?”
A flicker of a smile crossed her face as she bounced the heels of her shoes on the ground. They sparkled a few different colours before dying down again.
With the initial nerves dissipated, Emma shuffled forward the rest of the way so she could stand next to his throne. “Would you like to sit up on my lap or are you more comfortable there?” When she didn’t response immediately, he added, “you’ll get presents either way.”
She whispered, “are you really Santa?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Would you like me to be?”
Somehow, the phrasing stole the last of her nerves. She bounced up to him, nodding enthusiastically as he pulled her onto his lap. Now that she was close, Emma cold make out the individual strands of his very real, long beard. The sight took away any lingering hesitation, and she hugged him tight with her tiny arms.
“Are you gonna magic down our chimney?” Emma poked his belly, the picture of innocence. “I don’t think you’d fit otherwise.”
If he was offended, his bounding laugh didn’t show it. “Don’t you worry about that. I always find a way.”
“Always?” She peered up at him, uncertainty creeping in again. “You mean since we brought magic back?”
Santa paused, glancing up to Regina for assistance. The mayor stepped closer. She did her best to toe the line between what someone of the ‘real world’ would understand, and an explanation that would satisfy her girl. “You couldn’t always get to Emma before. But she’s with me now and there will be lots of presents.”
Emma turned to him with a toothy grin. “Yeah, ‘cause magic’s back now!”
He squeezed her tight. “It sure is, sweetheart.” When Emma didn’t add anything, he said, “Would you like to tell me what you want for Christmas?”
“More Lego.” Emma nodded sagely, like this should be obvious. She did have a full box at home, but on days when she had greater patience, she could easily use up every piece making her creations. “And a bike! I’ve never had a bike. And more stories. I like stories.”
She didn’t catch Santa’s glance towards Regina before saying, “that all sounds like something I can do. Shall we get a photo for your mommy?”
Regina extended her hand. “It’s alright. She doesn’t like ph –”
“No!” Emma whined. Her eyes widened, then jumped to Santa, the words, “I’m sorry!” tumbling out quickly. In a more measured voice, she said to Regina, “I’d like a picture, please.”
Regina concealed both her surprise and elation well as she stepped back. She knew there was a very good chance that Emma would request the photo be deleted at a later date, but for now, she relished in finally being permitted to capture a memory. The blonde leaned in close to Santa, the toothiest grin shot in the direction of the phone.
When it was time to slip off his lap, he said, “you have the best Christmas, Emma. Remember to get a little gift from one of my elves on the way out.”
A small, wrapped box was placed in her hands as they stepped out of the grotto, which Emma immediately shook to her ear. It rattled with a vengeance, and she tore the paper apart before Regina could tell her to wait until later. It revealed two Hot Wheels cars, which Emma waved about triumphantly.
Regina slipped them in her pocket, anticipating the meltdown if they were to go missing before returning home. “You will get them later. Come, let’s see the reindeer.”
Before they left, Emma had requested photos with the reindeer, inside the igloo, with the elf and Santa props, and standing at a ‘North Pole’ sign with her new toys. To Regina’s delight, she was never asked to delete any of them.