Santa

Wood stove casting shadows over the living room. 5am she creeps into my room and whispers: “Santa’s been!”
“How do you know?”

“He ate the milk and cookies.”

“That’s why we leave them.”

“Yes but, I think he ate too much because he fell asleep on the couch. (Sobbing) What about all the other kids?”

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In our old house we used to have a fabulous wood stove with a glass door. Filled with logs before bedtime it would burn all night and the flames would light up the length of the long living room, there was just enough glow to see in the dark.
Chloe was aged 9, still half believed in Santa and, it was our first Christmas without her mom. We always told her if she woke up early she could have her stocking and they were always laid out on the couch. My stocking was red with a white trim around the open end, a bit like Santa’s hat.
Chloe woke up early and creeping around in the dark she’d seen the milk and cookies on the kitchen table gone, crumbs left and what was left of a carrot with teeth marks (for Rudolph) and, creeping around in the living room in the dark, she’d seen the hat at the end of the couch and had mistaken it for Santa’s head and the additional presents on the couch for his bulky body.
She was so upset to think he’d fallen asleep on our couch and all the other kids wouldn’t get their presents she cried…. haha…
Sometimes kids thoughts and what they say are just so precious and, priceless. I’ve always described myself as, growing up with Chloe.

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