He tipped his head up, resting his chin on her belly and smiled.
She bent down and kissed his forehead. “Have a seat. I’m going to talk to Mr. Dimes.”
“Okay.”
She approached the desk. “Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Dimes.”
“Right through there.” The secretary pointed to the open door on the left. “He’s expecting you, Mrs. Edge.”
“Great.” Everyone knew she was coming in. Had they talked about her? About Billy? Still confused and a little more upset, she strode into the office.
“Merry Christmas,” she said as she held her hand over the desk. “I’m Billy’s mother.”
Mr. Dimes got to his feet and shook her hand. He was a tall man, skinny to the point that she wondered if he was ill. His gaunt features were more suited to Halloween than Christmas. But his brown eyes were kind, and she found some comfort in that. “Welcome. Have a seat.”
She took up the chair closest to her, and he settled himself back behind the desk. “I have to say, I’m surprised. Billy’s never caused problems in class before.”
“Well, it’s a special kind of situation we have going here.”
“Oh?” She folded her arms and then remembered that it could tell the person she was talking to that she was closed off. She’d studied body language a lot when she’d been married, trying to figure out what she was doing wrong—why her husband didn’t see her the way he had before they’d gotten married. Turned out, it wasn’t her he didn’t want—it was any wife. She rested her arms on the chair. “I’m still confused.”
He pressed his fingertips together and studied her over the top of them. “It seems that Billy is under the impression, and rather insistent with the other children, that Santa is a woman.”
Mitzi let the words sit with her a moment. “And that’s a problem because …?”
“Well …” He shifted. “It goes against tradition.”
Mitzi continued to stare at him. “I don’t see the issue.”
He huffed. “Billy has a whole image of this Santa in his head. He described her to me in explicit detail—right down to the fact that she smelled like gingersnaps.” He turned his chair to the side and spoke almost to the right of her instead of to her.
Mitzi clenched her jaw.
“We love imagination. It’s encouraged for students to think outside the box. But I’m concerned that Billy has created an alternate world in his mind to cope with his personal trauma.”
Whoa! Insecurities broke open like puncture wounds. “Billy’s been through a lot. But I don’t see his making Santa a woman a manifestation of trauma.” Her mind raced over the hundreds of articles she’d consumed about divorce and children. “He may not feel comfortable with men after his father left. That’s okay. There’s no harm in what he’s doing.”
“There is if he upsets the whole third grade. We’ve had three children in here this morning, crying because they don’t think Santa will answer their letters because they called him a him.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Mitzi bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure you can reassure them that Santa loves all children and he or she is not going to withhold presents because of a pronoun.”
“It’s more than that, though.” He leaned in, resting his forearms on the desk. “I understand women’s issues, but sometimes … I mean … don’t you think this is taking it too far? I don’t want to tell you what to do in your home, but the world isn’t ready for a female Santa.”
Mitzi stared at him in complete shock that he would even say such a thing. She wasn’t one to get up on a soapbox, but something had switched inside of her at his words. The world wasn’t …? Was he serious? For the second time that day, she rose to her full height. “For the record—the only people in the world who aren’t ready for a female Santa are small-minded individuals with no imagination.”
His face went red. “The beard! What about that?”
“A woman could be just as good of a Santa as a man!”
“And what about Billy? He doesn’t have friends. He should be fitting in—not spewing femin—”
Mitzi cut him off. “The girls in this school should be encouraged to believe that they could grow up to be Santa rather than be told they can’t because they can’t grow a beard.” She marched to the door but stopped and turned back. “And as for my son, I’m proud of him. If the boys in this school are like you, then he doesn’t need them for friends.”
She went to the front desk, her chest heaving. The principal had come out of her office to see what the ruckus was about. Mitzi met her eye, daring her to say a word. She nodded her head in acknowledgment before heading into the vice principal’s office. “Mr. Dimes, I think it’s time we review the district’s policy on empowering our female students inallareas of learning and education.”
Mitzi smirked.
“Someone had to say it,” mumbled the secretary. She glanced up at Mitzi. “What can I helpyouwith?”
