Nearly forty years ago, I crafted a Santa piñata for my husband’s nephews and niece. Since I had no children and consequently abundant spare time back then, I could afford the long hours necessary to create him. I covered balloons and tubes with papier-mâché, slathered more paste on top and waited for everything to dry. Several days later, I sculpted boots and a face from paper pulp and waited for them to dry. Then I painstakingly glued on string for the beard and hair and, after finishing, filled the Santa with candy and closed up the hole in the back.
Done. I stood Santa on the fireplace and admired him during the days leading up to Christmas. I imagined how the kids would love pummeling that piñata. I saw the candy spilling out and heard the squeals of delight.
But when we took him to the family Christmas celebration, both children and parents refused to beat on him.
But when we took him to the family Christmas celebration, both children and parents refused to beat on him.
I was disappointed.
I insisted.
They said no, he was too beautiful to ruin. They absolutely would not pound on him. Eventually, we compromised by cutting a hole in his back so my niece and nephews could reach in and grab handfuls of candy.
I had to admit we had even more fun than I had anticipated.
I had to admit we had even more fun than I had anticipated.
I don’t remember whose idea it was for me to fill him with candy on subsequent Christmases, but our papier-mâché Santa quickly became a family tradition. I added inexpensive toys and small stuffed animals that I collected during the year to the candy inside him, and every Christmas the kids took turns reaching in up to their armpits to pull out goodies.
The tradition continued naturally when my own children were born. And this year Santa is standing on the fireplace in our living room waiting to be filled for our grandchildren.
Poor Santa looks a little tattered after all these years, but since he’s just paper and glue, I repair him when an arm falls off or one of his boots comes loose, and he just keeps on giving. I wonder which of my children or grandchildren will want him so they can continue the tradition when I'm gone?
