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A Visit From Santa

December 3, 2006

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Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for a curious little boy who had heard the schoolyard rumors and needed to find out for himself.

His plan was simple. He would wait until the grumpys were asleep then sneak into the living room. To see… what? Well that part of the plan wasn’t quite worked out. He set his alarm clock for midnight and stumbled out of bed before he could fall back to sleep. He put on woolen socks instead of slippers and dark sweats instead of his light coloured housecoat.

He listened carefully, but only heard the normal creaks and groans of the old house. He slowly climbed the steep dark stairs, avoiding the second from the bottom and the third from the top. Once he was upstairs he went to the washroom, left the light off, sat to pee and didn’t flush. After the bathroom he made his way through the cold dark house. The first bedroom he came to was his sisters’ and he knew that she or her dog Tweety would rat him out, but decided against trying to shut her squeaky door. Once past her room he stopped in the kitchen to grab an orange for later. He crawled past his parents open bedroom door into the living room and peaked past the piano.

There was still a glow in the fireplace and just enough light to make out shapes. The stockings were full, there were more presents around the tree and the snack they’d left out was gone.  As he moved further into the room to get a better view he saw there on the other side of the tree someone bending over. Santa bent over a sack? His heart was pounding and his mind was racing. What was He still doing here? What was I doing there? I’m in big trouble. He backed out of the living room right into Tweety and they both yelped. They got down stairs without waking anyone else up.  He let her out and in then climbed back into bed and considered his fate What would Santa do?  Maybe he’d take everything away like the Grinch did. He might leave a note for his parents. He shuddered at the thought. He drifted off to a fitful sleep listening to the ominous creaks and groans of the cold dark house.

 He woke to his sister jumping on his bed saying Daddy says we can get up now. He followed his sister upstairs towards his doom. When they arrived in the kitchen she told their dad that she heard Santa Claus outside her bedroom last night and that she thought he must have let Tweety out because there were mud prints on her quilt and he must have used the toilet because someone peed and didn’t flush.

“Really? Did you hear anything last night Son?” He asked the very pale and no longer curious little boy.

They went into the living room together, the lights on the tree were lit, the stockings were stuffed and everything was how it should be, including there on the other side of the tree where Santa had been bending over; a huge stuffed bear for his sister.

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