I hired the same Santa actor to visit our home for three consecutive years, but it was during last Christmas Eve that I stumbled upon him in the bathroom and discovered the reason behind his dedication—specifically, his connection to my son.
Let me introduce myself: I’m Elara, and this remarkable event unfolded last year when I was 34. To provide some context, I adopted my son, Dylan, when he was just six months old, which happened about eight years ago now.
Dylan’s story is quite unique; he was found abandoned on the doorstep of an adoption agency with nothing but a note stating his name was Martin. Since he was still a baby, I chose to rename him Dylan, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Although raising a child alone has its challenges, it’s also been incredibly rewarding.
Christmas became a particularly special holiday for us after Dylan came into my life. As he was a young child and I disliked crowds, I decided to hire a Santa for photos instead of taking him to the busy mall. I found a photography studio that offered a Santa actor, and I took Dylan there for his first Christmas photo.
As Dylan grew, I wanted to keep the magic alive in a different way. Three years ago, I discovered a flyer at my door that advertised a professional actor available to visit homes dressed as Santa Claus. The name and phone number felt like a blessing, so I called, and soon after, Harold entered our lives.
When Harold first arrived, his Santa suit was slightly oversized, but it was exactly what I envisioned. Dylan, then five, was convinced he was meeting the real Santa. The two of them spent hours together, with Harold engaging in various activities like building block towers and baking cookies. I attempted to give him extra payment, but he declined, asking me to call him again the following Christmas.
A year later, I did just that. Harold was still in business, and while most kids rushed through mall Santa photos, Dylan enjoyed personalized playtime with him. I often wondered why Harold dedicated so much time to our family instead of visiting others. When I asked him, he simply smiled and replied, “Christmas Eve is reserved just for special boys like Dylan.”
Dylan became accustomed to this unique Santa privilege and worked hard to show he was on his best behavior, often cleaning his room and doing chores, claiming, “Santa wants to see I’m being good.”
Fast forward to last Christmas, when Dylan was eight and still believed in Santa, though he was starting to ask more questions. Our living room was fully decorated for the holidays, with lights and ornaments everywhere. Dylan was excitedly discussing a science project with Harold when he accidentally spilled hot cocoa all over Santa’s suit.
“Oh NO!” Dylan cried, but Harold remained calm. “Don’t worry, even Santa has accidents sometimes,” he chuckled. Then he asked to use the bathroom to clean up. I quickly fetched him a towel, but when I handed it to him, I noticed something unexpected: a crescent-shaped birthmark on his back that looked just like Dylan’s.
As I tried to remain composed, I also spotted keys to a Mercedes on the bathroom counter—strange for a part-time Santa actor. I was confused but handed him the towel without showing my surprise. Meanwhile, Dylan was excitedly setting up a board game that Santa had promised him.
My mind raced as I connected the dots between the birthmark, the luxury car, and Harold’s prolonged visits. But what shocked me the most was what happened next. When Harold emerged from the bathroom, he called out, “So, Martin, ready to play again?”
Martin? That was the name on the note left with Dylan when he was found! I was taken aback and yelled, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”
Dylan froze, his little voice squeaking, “Mommy? Why are you yelling at Santa?”
Taking a moment to breathe, I sent Dylan upstairs and turned back to Harold. “The birthmark, the keys, and calling him Martin. Explain yourself!” I demanded, running my fingers through my hair in disbelief.
To my astonishment, Harold let out a nervous laugh—not a joyful one, but a relieved one. He removed his fake beard, revealing a handsome face. He looked younger, around 40, and somehow, he resembled my son.
“I’m his father,” he confessed, his shoulders slumping. He explained that years ago, when Dylan was born, he was young and struggling. Unable to support a child alone, he made the heart-wrenching decision to give him up for adoption, hoping for a better life. He had kept tabs on Dylan and had created the Santa persona to spend time with him without disrupting our lives.
While I felt anger rising within me, I also understood. Harold had found a way to be there for his son without taking him away from the happy life I had provided. After our emotional conversation, I asked for some time to think things over. Harold, returning to his Santa persona, said goodbye to Dylan and left, but we exchanged contact information and began talking regularly.
A few days later, I knew I had to tell Dylan the truth. While he knew he was adopted, this was different. Initially skeptical, he rolled his eyes at the idea of Santa being his dad. I clarified, “No, silly! The man who visits us every year is called Harold.”
After explaining everything, Dylan took some time to process. The next day, he asked to talk to Harold, showing how much he had grown attached to him. I invited Harold over for dinner without his costume for the first time. It felt strange, but we adjusted to the change.
As the evening progressed, Dylan was his usual chatty self, eager to impress his biological father. By the end of the night, we decided to arrange regular visits. These weekend meetings soon turned into almost daily gatherings, and surprisingly, Harold began showing interest in me as well.
What had started as friendly inquiries from him evolved into something deeper. It took three months after our initial revelation for us to admit our feelings for each other. Just last week, he proposed to me while dressed as Santa! It was surprisingly romantic, and I felt compelled to share our journey.
Life can be unpredictable. My son gained the father he never thought he’d have, I found love, and it all began because I hired a Santa. Our little family was doing well, even amid financial struggles. But with Harold’s success, our lives transformed for the better.
Now, we’re planning to marry this Christmas!