The helicopter blades flatten the grass on the first tee of the Wollaston Golf Club as scores of children squint and strain to be the first to see me arrive.

My arrival was always the most exciting aspect of this gig, until this year as I faced the line of overstimulated children holding hands with their Christmas-weary parents excited to share wish lists and take photos with Santa. 

“Grandma!” a 5-year-old boy’s voice rings out as I see an older woman collapse out of the corner of my eye. I’d been performing long enough to recognize the instant the room changed. Frightened and confused, the positive emotions that had enveloped the room quickly turned to the wrong kind of buzz.

I instinctively leapt to my feet, gathered the children’s attention, and explained loudly to everyone that it was “time to count the ornaments on the tree.”

 With a broad smile on my face and the jolliest “Ho, Ho, Ho’s!” the children, now distracted from the disturbing scene, delightedly followed me to the next room. I used every technique in my repertoire that day, from counting in Spanish and other languages to seeing who could name all my reindeer. 

I received a phone call a couple of days later from the woman who had collapsed. She turned out to be a lovely South Shore native with low blood sugar. Thankful she was ok, I listened to her side of the story. She said, “I wasn’t too worried when I fainted, but when I opened my eyes and saw Santa Claus running away with all the children I thought maybe it was my time.” Even Santa can appreciate a good Christmas Miracle. Ho Ho Ho!!!