At a time when many folks are speeding home to get started on Christmas Eve dinner, I'm driving around Dane County delivering secret canoes and kayaks to surprise a very lucky paddler or two. I work out surreptitious plans to hide kayaks behind garages, get garage codes to strap them to cars, and often I am idling around the corner waiting for the signal to drive up and put the canoe in the living room while someone is in the shower. That's a tight window. But I have developed, like Bryan Mills, a particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. I'm no ninja, but I can move stealthily enough to pull off a successful reverse heist.
I'm usually gone before the big reveal. But if I can stick around, I stay to see the faces. That's one advantage I have over Santa -- he never sees the faces. Happy faces. That's why I drive around on Christmas Eve in my goofy Santa hat, singing along with Burl Ives. It's going to be a Holly Jolly Christmas.
I get home a little later than some, but by the time I get home I am positively saturated with the Ghost of Christmas Present. I get to make people happy. I see faces and smiles. I don't just see them; I feel them too. So this ninja Santa stuff driving around delivering boats is really a gift for me. Thanks for letting me practice my particular set of skills.