My Christmas Story
(Char and I want to wish all my blogging friends a very Merry Christmas. I also want to thank you for the comments you have left throughout the year and for the stories you have shared on your site – those have been nice gifts.)
Ah, Christmas. That time of year when young children go to bed on Christmas Eve knowing Santa Claus will find their house and leave countless gifts. Every noise they hear is reindeer landing on the roof followed by Santa placing presents under the tree. But, it wasn’t always so. Only a few people know how Santa Claus almost ruined Christmas.
I was perhaps six or seven years old. One of my sisters was born and I think my brother was as well, but he was young.
Following dinner, my Dad told Mom he had to run to a few errands and would be back shortly. I remember my mom smiling at him and telling him to hurry home – after all, it was Christmas Eve.
Mom asked my sister and me to stay in the kitchen and tell her what we wanted for Christmas. This is an important topic for a kid so we were more than happy to stay and talk.
We were going down our mental list of what we wanted for Christmas and my mom was dragging out the conversation with thought provoking question like why did we want a certain gift and what would we do with it. And that’s when it happened. . . .my sister let out a blood-curling scream and pointed at the window. I saw it and screamed - two eyes and a beard staring at us through the window.
I ran. My sister followed. We ran into the bedroom and slammed the door. My sister hid in the closet, not knowing the safest place in the house was underneath the bed up against the wall. That’s where I was.
There was more screaming and crying and then the bedroom door opened ever so slowly. My mom told us to come out and there standing next to her was. . . . Santa Claus!
Forget all those Christmas specials you’ve been watching – this was not a happy reunion between Santa and the kids. Questions like, “Why are you here already?” “Why were you looking in the kitchen window?” And, yes, even “Where are your reindeer?” All questions that needed to be answered before warming up to the guy in the red suit with the beady eyes.
Finally, peace was made and my sister and I told Santa what we wanted for Christmas. There was no way were we getting close to him. We told Santa what we wanted from across the room.
Santa left and a few minutes later, my dad returned. Boy, did we have a story to tell him.