A reporter recently asked me about the word “sidekick.”

“Are you a sidekick to Santa?” she asked.

From a story perspective, Mrs. Claus, the Grinch, elves, and dancers are offshoots of Santa Claus. Absolutely, kids come to see the Big Guy.

On a human resource level, however, we are full-fledged citizens with rights and feelings.

My answer to the reporter surprised me.

“Human beings can’t be sidekicks,” I said. I explained that we were having a conversation in a crowded cafe. Did that make us the leads and everyone else sidekicks?

No.

According to our point of view, we were the center of action, and everyone else was in the background. But we, sitting in the window seat, were the background for other customers having their own conversations.

Therefore, side characters — or layered entertainment — are not Santa’s sidekicks.

If we entertainers were subjects in a documentary, and the camera turned on us, we would be the leads, and Santa would be out of the spotlight, still important but not in focus at the moment.

Yes, when children rush to Santa to show their letters, I am not in the spotlight. But I do hold value as I listen to the child and try to be helpful to the situation.

I work best with Santas who get this dynamic, the ones who don’t treat me like Tonto (which means “fool” in Spanish) to their Lone Ranger.

I’m also learning how to work alone. For some people, Mrs. Claus is their favorite!

Mrs. Claus has been vying for the reins since the late 1800s.

In Atlas Obscura, English professor Maura Ives notes the work of Katharine Lee Bates, author of “America the Beautiful.” In “Goody Santa Claus on a Sleigh Ride,” Bates writes:

For you must allow, my Goodman, that

you’re but a lazy woodman

And rely on me to foster all our fruitful

Christmas trees.

Bates is just one of several female writers who describe Mr. and Mrs. C. Through light-hearted fiction, they spoke in code about real-life issues between wives and husbands.

I was so inspired by Bates and Sarah J. Burke, author of “Mrs. Santa Claus Asserts Herself,” that I penned my own poem: “Mrs. Claus Re-Writes the Story,” seen above.

So many reds, friends.

Each delicious and full of meaning.

I have four basic Mrs. Claus looks for functionality and to prevent clashing with Santa Claus’ red suit. If I’m working with a new Santa, someone I’ve never met, I’ll ask for photos of his look. And then, like Ginger Rogers dancing backwards in heels, I compromise. I find outfit pieces that might make us look like a pair.

I don’t mind doing this. I also have a green jacket, to prevent clashing at all.

Yet I do notice that Santa is often the main fashion editor. Just like in non-character life, I notice that gender plays a role.

Here’s a poem I wrote: