Christmas Stockings and the True Identity of Santa

The hasty Santa Claus had been on the move since November.

First, the presents.
I subtly fished for requests from my daughter, and while gauging the risk of her changing her mind and the trends among third-graders, I looked for the most opportune moment to buy.
Just thinking about sell-outs or shipping delays made my legs go weak.

At the same time, I also wanted to prepare things to boost the festive mood.
However, my home isn't a grand house where we can decorate with wreaths or illuminations. The honest truth is that if I had that kind of budget, I'd rather spend it on presents.
In the end, I don't arrange anything, and I just set up a small tree right before Christmas Eve as if I'd just remembered it. That's the annual pattern.

Until last year, that is.
This year's Dad has different skills. I've become able to knit just a little bit.
So, I decided to knit stockings. The things Santa puts presents in. If I place them at the foot of the tree, the Christmas mood will be greatly enhanced.
That's why I wanted to finish knitting them during November and be ready for the start of the season.
Father worked through the night, knitting me a stocking. Where did the Christmas mood go?

And so, I knitted away diligently.

First, I started by researching how to knit.
I watched YouTube and recoiled at the difficulty right from the start. The cuff, the shin, the toe. The structure is complex, and despite being small, it's like a department store of knitting techniques. Mai-no-umi. That's old.

The heel was especially difficult, and even looking at it on a large computer screen, I couldn't even follow it with my eyes. I even felt like I was being led astray.
I muttered, 'Is the heel some kind of villain?' and when I looked it up, it was indeed 'heel'. It was spelled the same. I knew it.

I decided on simple stockings that even a beginner could knit. A long, icicle-shaped bag without a heel. It would bulge with presents anyway. As long as it looked like a stocking, it was fine.
What I really wanted to be particular about was the color.
It had to be white and red. By matching it with the green of the tree, I wanted to create a Christmas-like color scheme.

For the yarn, I could use the leftovers from things I'd knitted this year. Off-white, berry red, and wine red.
But that wasn't enough. I couldn't even knit half of it.
If that's the case, I should just buy more, but yarn eats up money if you're not careful. The most I can afford is about 500 to 800 yen per ball. Even so, if the number of items increases, the expenses pile up.
It's common to pick something up at a store thinking, 'Oh, what a cute color,' only to find it's an overseas brand and costs several thousand yen per ball. It's not cute, so I put it back on the shelf.

'Wouldn't it be cheaper to just buy it at Uniqlo?'
My wife sometimes says that to me.
There's no coming back from that, but since the end of the year and the beginning of the new year are expensive for various reasons, there's no doubt I want to keep additional spending to a minimum.

So, I decided to procure yarn at a 100-yen shop. Daiso and Can Do are reliable at times like this.
The color, thickness, and luster would likely all be different from the yarn I already had. But if there was something similar, couldn't I make it work? It would work out. I had no choice but to make it work.

With my head spinning from anxiety and determination, I headed to the Daiso in Shinjuku Subnade.
Winter sales rounds chill you to the bone. As a survival strategy for a salesman, I know the underground malls in Tokyo inside out. I was sure there was a large store there.

I was surprised when I arrived.
'Huh? There are this many varieties?'
The selection was completely different from the store in my neighborhood.
Not only colorful yarn, but also a wide range of sizes of knitting needles and crochet hooks, sewing tools, and even decoration items like beads—it didn't seem like the same chain. Just looking at the shelves was a treat for the eyes.

I learned later that the size of a store and its selection don't necessarily correlate. There are large stores with sparse craft goods, and deep, small stores. The inventory likely changes based on the chain, location, and customer base, and each store probably has its own preferences.
In any case, the Daiso Shinjuku Subnade store was serious.

Luckily, they were selling a wine red that looked very similar to the yarn I had. I bought two balls for 200 yen. If I had bought them at a craft store, it probably would have cost about 1,500 yen. Saving the price of three beef bowls is huge. I headed home, praying in my heart.

From there, about two weeks passed. I knitted the stockings, feeling the winter deepening day by day in my numb fingers.

The cuff was off-white. It's like the snow cap of a Christmas stocking.
The area below the knee was berry red. It's a color close to pink, and I wanted to create a gradation with the deep crimson that follows.
From the shin down, it was all a calm, solid wine red. Just because it's for a child doesn't mean I should make it childish. That's the trick to getting a good reaction from a child.
I realized I was using a different part of my brain by playing at color design. It reminded me of the coloring books from when I used to have my daughter on my lap.

The wine red that serves as the main color consists of two types: the craft store yarn I had on hand and the 100-yen shop yarn. Including the other yarns, there were four types. As I worked with them, the difference in texture was interesting. I felt something like a 'knitting flavor,' so to speak.

The three types I bought at the craft store were all wool. Since the origin and the twist are different, each has its own unique personality. Mellow qualities, elasticity, and even something like richness were transmitted from my fingertips.
This breadth of flavor is likely the reason why a craft store is a specialty store.

On the other hand, the 100-yen shop yarn has a different kind of knitting flavor. Because it's acrylic yarn, there's no quirkiness in its elasticity or texture. Because of that, it's easy to handle, and I could knit it quickly and crisply. You could say it has a sharp finish.
It's perfect for a beginner like me, and that's surely the marketing behind it.

Even if your knitting skills are low, or the yarn is a bit uneven, if you knit carefully, it will turn out decent enough. Knitting has that kind of comforting quality.

Late November. The socks I managed to finish just in time were shoved onto my daughter's feet, and she was sliding across the floor in them.
Look, look! I'm skating!
Acrylic yarn really is something. It cleans the hardwood floors to a sad degree of perfection.
I had knitted them quite large for a gift, so it was a surprise that they fit her reasonably well.
Just one?
Just one.
Why did you make it?
For Santa to put presents in.
My daughter's skating stopped.

Hey. Santa is actually you and Dad, right?

The moment had finally arrived.
Is Santa the parents? I had been thinking about how to answer that question since I became a parent.
But when the time actually came, the clever answers I had prepared felt like they were mocking her courage, and I couldn't bring myself to say them.

Yeah. You're right. Did you figure it out?

The year she mistook my Santa disguise for a red ogre. The year the letter to Santa was glued shut, and I had to guess what to buy. The way the hiding spots for presents moved higher and higher each year.
I loved the joy of waking up every December 25th and saying, 'Santa came, didn't he? You were such a good girl.' For eight years, I was so happy to be your Santa. Thank you.
What kind of face was I making when I answered her?

The next moment.
My daughter raised her right fist high into the air and shouted.
Yes! That's perfect!

Is there such a thing as 'perfect' for this situation?

The Mario Lego set is on sale right now. I don't need a Christmas present. Buy it now.
Black Friday. I immediately understood that this was her way of being considerate.
She must have realized a long time ago. Why our Christmas was always so modest, and who Santa really was.
She is growing up so fast. I have never once been able to keep up with that speed.

Still, I'd never heard of an advance on a Christmas present. I immediately searched for the Lego set on Amazon, and my daughter peered into my smartphone screen.
This one? The Mario one?
Yes! That one!
Oh, you're right. It's 13,000 yen, down from 14,000 yen.
...Wait. 14,000 yen?
14,000 yen for mere plastic blocks, or 13,000 yen even on sale. My yarn costs 100 yen a ball.
Trying not to think about it any further, I kept tapping until the purchase was complete.

I'm out of a job.
Holding the sock, I reported to the other former Santa. She had been listening quietly the whole time.
I see. Then knit another one. My mom says her feet are cold. I'll send it to my parents' house.

And so, I am now knitting socks for my mother-in-law. With slightly better yarn, the kind that is actually practical. An unexpected turn of events: a Christmas present for Mom.
One Santa leaves, another Santa arrives. What shall I knit next year?

(End) Thank you for reading until the end. If you'd like, please read this as well.