Sinterklaas and The Christmas Sweater

“You can’t wear a Christmas sweater already,” my wife commented in pretend shock upon seeing my choice of clothing.

It was the day before Pakjesavond and I’d just put on a brightly coloured Norwegian style Christmas sweater. It was adorned with knitted snowflakes, reindeer, Christmas trees and rows upon rows of other highly festive decorations. I was planning to wear it to work to get into the festive spirit. I design computer games for a living so luckily we have a very relaxed dress code.

“But it is December,” I replied a little too defensively considering she was mostly joking.

“Yeah, but Sinterklaas isn’t over yet. What if he finds out?”

Without realizing it I actually paused to think for a second. “It’ll be fine. He won’t find out,” I replied, “Besides, lots of people are wearing Christmas sweaters in the office already.”

Yes, even at nearly forty I’m not above using the children’s logic/excuse of, ‘but other people are doing it’.

“Alright. It’s up to you if you want to take the risk,” she shrugged.

Ignoring my wife’s teasing comments I went to work in my festive winter wear. I decided it was probably best not to tell her that I was planning to decorate my whole desk once I got there.

I’ve always loved Christmas. I’m not quite the guy in the office who goes completely overboard with his festive celebrations but I’m probably somewhere in the top ten. I have a small box of Christmas decorations under my desk and it was finally time to open it up again. Before I even looked at my email I retrieved the box, dusted it off and started decorating. I draped red tinsel over my monitor and around my keyboard. I hung a short row of battery-powered Christmas lights along the back wall. I even put up a Christmas calendar (temporarily over the drawings from my children). Before long the other designers were joining in and the decorations started to spread outwards over our department.

Our efforts didn’t rival the animation department (which has a budget, several hundred meters of Christmas tree lights, fake snow and, new to this year, an inflatable Santa) but we still looked very festive. Unlike previous days I didn’t notice many other people wearing Christmas sweaters though. Still, with the decorations up I finally turned my attention to the task of checking my emails and began to work.

A few hours and a couple of meetings later I received an email from our receptionist. She’d just received a package I’d been waiting for. It was a Christmas present for my wife that I’d had delivered to the office to keep as secret as possible. With some time to spare before the next meeting I decided to go downstairs and get it.

I was lost in thought as I walked down the open staircase to the reception desk. Designs for various game mechanics and encounter layouts filled my mind. Because of my distracted thought process it was even more surreal when I suddenly noticed the red-caped individual standing by the reception desk.

I froze. Standing right there, waiting by the reception desk, was Sinterklaas. He was facing away from me but there was no mistaking his identity. The large golden staff, red robes, tall hat and the two Soot Pieten standing either side of him. It was definitely Sinterklaas. But why? How? Had he come to personally deliver my package? No, that was not it.

I suddenly remembered that it was the day of the children’s Sinterklaas party. There had been an email about it two weeks ago. Everyone was invited to bring their children to the office to meet Sinterklaas and receive a kadootje. The only reason I’d not brought my own children was because it was too far (we live Friesland but I work in Amsterdam) and because of that I’d forgotten when the party was happening.

One of the Pieten noticed my approach from the stairs and glanced up in my direction.

“Sinterklaas,” I heard him say as he subtly directed the old man’s attention towards me. There was something serious in his tone.

Sinterklaas slowly turned and looked up at me half-frozen on the staircase. His stare was equally serious as he took in the sight before him. In the shock of the moment I forgot what I was wearing.

“Hmm. Kerst trui?” he commented in Dutch, which in English would have been, “Hmm. Christmas sweater?” It was more a disapproving observation than it was a question.

Oh no. My wife had been right. Sinterklaas had just found out I was preparing for Christmas before the celebration of his birthday was over.

“Sorry,” I mumbled unconfidently as I quickly tried to cover my jumper with my hands. I was suddenly unsure what to do. I couldn’t walk up to the reception desk and retrieve my package (a Christmas gift no less) while Sinterklaas was standing there. Nor could I walk back up the staircase I’d just walked down without making it very obvious that I was running away. Instead I did the only thing I could do as a nearly forty-year-old man. I kept on walking, quickly passed them (while keeping my distance) and hid in the nearby bathroom. I waited in there until they left.

Luckily I didn’t have to wait long. I soon heard the sounds of over-excited cheering as Sinterklaas passed by my hiding place and entered the office cafeteria where the children were waiting. During a loud rendition of ‘Dag Sinterklaasje’ I quickly retreated back to my desk. Luckily neither of the Pieten followed me up there and discovered my festively decorated desk (although the animation departments small Christmas village might have taken the attention away from my sweater).

Still stunned by what had just happened I quickly sent a text message to my wife to tell her what had happened.

Despite the traumatic event I still love Sinterklaas time (as well as Christmas).