I’m thinking I probably continued to believe in Santa until I was about eight or nine. Then when I finally figured it out I was too afraid to tell mom and dad – hey, if they knew I knew, then they might not get me anymore Santa gifts. Plus, my little sisters still believed and so I didn’t want to ruin things for them.
My mom does an awesome Santa Claus. She doesn’t wrap gifts, she sets everything up under the tree. For instance one year we got an entire set of Heart Family dolls and matching playsets. She laid out all of their clothes and put the little kiddie ones on the swing set with the daddy one standing behind them. And the mommy one was propped up next to the bassinette with the baby. What a thrill to get up and see all of it magically there on Christmas morning!
So then, I figured it all out. My brain began spinning and I realized that there was no longer any fear that Santa wouldn’t come if I didn’t go to sleep – all I had to do was wait for mom to finish then I could sneak into the living room for a peek. But eventually, a peek wasn’t enough. I had to inspect things. Now generally our gifts were laid out in order of age under the tree. Sometimes what was in my spot wasn’t the color or choice that I wanted. I was the oldest so I’m sure mom thought it was appropriate for me to get the Strawberry Shortcake doll, but I thought the Blueberry Muffin doll was cuter, so I switched them. And the next year I wanted the Red Rainbow Bright Sprite, not the White one!
In retrospect I figure I’m lucky Santa ever brought me anything again – afterall I think stealing your sister’s gifts would be a good reason to end up on the naughty list. To this day I sometimes wonder if my baby sis ever forgave me for taking Blueberry Muffin.
Oh yeah, by the way, sorry, sis… (Just in case Santa is reading this!)
These are some of the memories I was channeling when I wrote The Crazy Thing ’bout Christmas. Have you preordered your copy?
So what are some of your favorite Christmas or Santa stories?