My First Christmas of not believing in Santa Claus
I remember well the very first time I learned that your Dad is Santa Claus.
This happened on Christmas Eve. My Mom was cleaning up the kitchen and my Dad went outside for something. I wanted to know what he was doing and my Mom said, "Oh nothing." I went to the window and looked outside and I saw my Dad pulling a little red wagon and it was loaded with things--I couldn't tell what but I knew it was something good!
He was going to put the stuff in our living room. We didn't have a tree that year--we hardly ever did. But I met him at the door and the cat was out of the bag.
After that I knew that My Dad was Santa Claus. Somehow, Christmas was never the same after that. I still liked my gifts and had fun but not like when I believed in Santa Claus! My young fantasies ended at such a young age, probably about five or six.
posted by kyra lafain @ 12/15/2008 12:30:00 PM
2 Comments:
I still believe! Of course I know that a man in a red suit doesn't visit every house on Christmas Eve, but I still love the spirit of the fantasy. And I can't quite stop myself from taking a peek in my stocking every Christmas morning!
Hey- I'm the mom here, and I am definitely Santa Claus. When my kids get their presents, he will be just as surprised as they are.
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