It shouldn't be this easy or this fun to deceive a loved one especially after we've done it so many times, but after pulling off another flawless surprise for my father in law, we realized that we laughed just as hard this time as we did the first time.
The first Carson Surprise (that included me) happened at the Greensboro airport. Pawpaw was coming to visit us and our first, new baby for Christmas. His other son, my precocious and adorable brother-in-law David, was already at our house but had spoken to Pawpaw several times previously and apologized about the fact that he would not be able to come for Christmas. Before we left for the airport, David got dressed in a full-on Santa suit complete with beard and hat. During the drive he practiced disguising his voice. Seated in the backseat next to my clueless seven-month-old, he drawled in a gravelly voice, "Hey Buddy, can I bum a cigarette for the road?" Over and over he rhythmically repeated this query until it sounded completely absurd. We giggled anticipating Pawpaw's shock, confusion and ultimate joy after being clued in.
When we arrived at the airport, we split from Santa and took our places, excitedly waiting for our guest's arrival at baggage claim. We hadn't counted on the fact that a Santa Claus at the airport two days before Christmas might draw a bit of attention from traveling children. I cannot promise that our Uncle David didn't make a few less than jolly comments to the unfortunate children who approached him. I distinctly remember one mother recoiling in disdain and pulling her little darling quickly away from our faux Claus after he grumbled, "Don't push your luck kid. Get lost. Santa's busy right now." There really is no excuse for such low brow behavior. I blame his parents.
Eventually Pawpaw did arrive. He was likely the last one to saunter off the plane, wearing his newsboy cap and grumbling under his breath. We greeted him with hugs and words of affection. We gathered his luggage, and right on cue, a thuggish Santa Claus approached and gruffly asked, "Hey Buddy, can I have a cigarette for the road?" Pawpaw ever so politely obliged, "Sure, Buddy. God bless you."
At that point, Uncle David retreated. I think we had all expected a different response. Pawpaw was not at all alarmed by a derelict Santa in need of a smoke. David regrouped and re-approached a couple of minutes later, "Hey man, could I get a ride?" he purred in his practiced husky voice. Pawpaw immediately waved him off like an irritating fly, "Naw. Sorry, Buddy. We can't do that."
My husband, George piped up, "Come on Dad, it's Christmas!" and turning to his costumed brother asked, "Where do you need to go, man?"
I joined in with the drama, speaking in a hushed voice as Carson-Claus looked pleadingly over the top of his beard, "We can't give that guy a ride, George!" I hissed, "We don't know anything about him, and have a baby with us!"
"Ya damn right!" Pawpaw insisted, "That sucker might have a pistol in his pocket."
"Aww, Dad, he doesn't," George persuaded, "It will be fine."
As we approached the car, Pawpaw became so agitated that David suddenly pulled off his beard and hat and asked, "How about giving your son a ride then, Dad?" Pawpaw replied with what has become his signature, speechless, dropped jaw. It is the reaction we now crave anytime we plan a new scheme. On that Christmas of 2002 Pawpaw was indeed shocked, confused, and filled with joy.
The following Christmas George and David paid Pawpaw an unexpected visit at his house in Gulfport. David was once again dressed as Father Christmas and my husband assumed the role of a cheeky, bearded elf. The two knocked at his door and sang a couple of personalized Christmas carols. This time the jaw-dropping moment of shock when the identities of the carolers was revealed was captured on video by a neighbor friend, and we were all hooked on the rush of endorphins that comes with surprising Pawpaw. (I still enjoy re-living the moment vicariously through the home video footage.)
Over the years the brothers have managed to pull off a couple of other surprises, but we were due for another, and Pawpaw's 75th birthday presented an ideal opportunity. It was time for another sneak attack and for our first ever long-distance, family car trip. After countless international, eight hour flights with our kids, the ten hour drive to western Kentucky was no big whoop. Surprising Pawpaw, however, was priceless.
Not to arouse suspicion, we sent him a charming birthday card and called him (from a McDonald's parking lot in Indianapolis) on his big day. We spent Pawpaw's birthday on the road headed to his hometown. The next morning we had arranged for Pawpaw's wife, Barbara, our newest accomplice, to send him to his local Walmart with a shopping list. He had no idea that there would be anything out of the ordinary about this trip, but David had worked his charm on the girls working in the bakery, and now his brother George was standing back behind the counter wearing a standard issue hairnet and a Walmart blue apron. The kids and I had staked out a hiding place behind the potatoes, and Uncle David was lurking near the women's underwear with his eyes fixed on the entrance. Pawpaw came rolling through the double glass doors moments later. He was riding a motorized shopping trolley and was wearing a determined scowl on his face. With list in hand, he sped back toward the dairy case. David approached and began to closely follow the trolley with lumbering footsteps.
Pawpaw was apparently annoyed with whoever this too-close-for-comfort joker was. He jerked his trolley to the opposite side of the aisle and continue to motor toward the 2% milk, but the guy was right up on him again. When Pawpaw finally whipped his head up to see what was wrong with this yo-yo-brain, he had to look twice before his jaw dropped in recognition. He immediately leaped out of his supermarket vehicle to hug his superhero-sized baby boy. "I came to see you for your birthday, Dad!" David explained logically, "Come on," he urged, "Let's go get you a cake at the bakery!"
Pawpaw, of course, had to get the milk first. That was the reason he came to Walmart, right? Finally, after insistently grumbling that he didn't need a cake, he was persuaded to return to the front of the store where the bakery is located. The girls and I, still lurking behind the potatoes, watched as the scene unfolded. Pawpaw approached the bakery case and surveyed the cakes, obviously annoyed, and George greeted him with an accent that belonged on the set of Hee-Haw, "Can I he'p ya, sir?"
"I dawn'no." Pawpaw answered, "They say I need another cake for my birthday."
"Well, we got chok'lit wuns and that there li'l ole colorful one. It just depends on whutcha like." my husband babbled. Pawpaw continued to look back and forth at the cakes in exasperation.
"Dad!" David coaxed, "We ordered you a cake. Just tell the guy your name!"
Pawpaw looked the man behind the counter dead in the eye and, with a supreme amount of irritation, declared, "I'm WILL CARSON... or at least what's left of him."
"I think we got that one right back here. Lemme just check..." George spluttered before turning around to 'check the stock', and at that moment, the light bulb went on, and Pawpaw's jaw dropped in recognition and astonishment. The girls behind the counter were in stitches, and George turned around and joined in the with everyone else's laughter. My husband came out from behind the counter, and the two brothers hugged their dad as he marveled at the coordinated surprise.
The kids and I were still watching from our post in the produce section. We gave them several minutes to recover and bask in the glow of their surprise reunion before the kids came and pounced on him bringing on more laughter and cheers...and we carried on like that for the rest of the weekend.
When we arrived at the airport, we split from Santa and took our places, excitedly waiting for our guest's arrival at baggage claim. We hadn't counted on the fact that a Santa Claus at the airport two days before Christmas might draw a bit of attention from traveling children. I cannot promise that our Uncle David didn't make a few less than jolly comments to the unfortunate children who approached him. I distinctly remember one mother recoiling in disdain and pulling her little darling quickly away from our faux Claus after he grumbled, "Don't push your luck kid. Get lost. Santa's busy right now." There really is no excuse for such low brow behavior. I blame his parents.
At that point, Uncle David retreated. I think we had all expected a different response. Pawpaw was not at all alarmed by a derelict Santa in need of a smoke. David regrouped and re-approached a couple of minutes later, "Hey man, could I get a ride?" he purred in his practiced husky voice. Pawpaw immediately waved him off like an irritating fly, "Naw. Sorry, Buddy. We can't do that."
My husband, George piped up, "Come on Dad, it's Christmas!" and turning to his costumed brother asked, "Where do you need to go, man?"
I joined in with the drama, speaking in a hushed voice as Carson-Claus looked pleadingly over the top of his beard, "We can't give that guy a ride, George!" I hissed, "We don't know anything about him, and have a baby with us!"
"Ya damn right!" Pawpaw insisted, "That sucker might have a pistol in his pocket."
"Aww, Dad, he doesn't," George persuaded, "It will be fine."
As we approached the car, Pawpaw became so agitated that David suddenly pulled off his beard and hat and asked, "How about giving your son a ride then, Dad?" Pawpaw replied with what has become his signature, speechless, dropped jaw. It is the reaction we now crave anytime we plan a new scheme. On that Christmas of 2002 Pawpaw was indeed shocked, confused, and filled with joy.
The following Christmas George and David paid Pawpaw an unexpected visit at his house in Gulfport. David was once again dressed as Father Christmas and my husband assumed the role of a cheeky, bearded elf. The two knocked at his door and sang a couple of personalized Christmas carols. This time the jaw-dropping moment of shock when the identities of the carolers was revealed was captured on video by a neighbor friend, and we were all hooked on the rush of endorphins that comes with surprising Pawpaw. (I still enjoy re-living the moment vicariously through the home video footage.)
Over the years the brothers have managed to pull off a couple of other surprises, but we were due for another, and Pawpaw's 75th birthday presented an ideal opportunity. It was time for another sneak attack and for our first ever long-distance, family car trip. After countless international, eight hour flights with our kids, the ten hour drive to western Kentucky was no big whoop. Surprising Pawpaw, however, was priceless.
(Pawpaw and Barbara, our new partner and crime)
Pawpaw was apparently annoyed with whoever this too-close-for-comfort joker was. He jerked his trolley to the opposite side of the aisle and continue to motor toward the 2% milk, but the guy was right up on him again. When Pawpaw finally whipped his head up to see what was wrong with this yo-yo-brain, he had to look twice before his jaw dropped in recognition. He immediately leaped out of his supermarket vehicle to hug his superhero-sized baby boy. "I came to see you for your birthday, Dad!" David explained logically, "Come on," he urged, "Let's go get you a cake at the bakery!"
Pawpaw, of course, had to get the milk first. That was the reason he came to Walmart, right? Finally, after insistently grumbling that he didn't need a cake, he was persuaded to return to the front of the store where the bakery is located. The girls and I, still lurking behind the potatoes, watched as the scene unfolded. Pawpaw approached the bakery case and surveyed the cakes, obviously annoyed, and George greeted him with an accent that belonged on the set of Hee-Haw, "Can I he'p ya, sir?"
"I dawn'no." Pawpaw answered, "They say I need another cake for my birthday."
"Well, we got chok'lit wuns and that there li'l ole colorful one. It just depends on whutcha like." my husband babbled. Pawpaw continued to look back and forth at the cakes in exasperation.
"Dad!" David coaxed, "We ordered you a cake. Just tell the guy your name!"
Pawpaw looked the man behind the counter dead in the eye and, with a supreme amount of irritation, declared, "I'm WILL CARSON... or at least what's left of him."
The kids and I were still watching from our post in the produce section. We gave them several minutes to recover and bask in the glow of their surprise reunion before the kids came and pounced on him bringing on more laughter and cheers...and we carried on like that for the rest of the weekend.
Happy Birthday, Pawpaw!
We love keeping you on your toes!
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