Santa Is Real...Trust Me!

For generations little kids have believed in Santa Claus. Right along with the Easter bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Clement Moore created our modern day Santa and children jumped on that fairy tale with both feet. And, believe it they did, until they found out there really wasn't such a person who lived at the North Pole.

Now, me.... I was one of those kids who KNEW that Santa was real. It wasn't because I was told to go to sleep because 'Santa won't come if you are awake' kind of thing. Nope... the Santa I knew came to my house in person. I saw him every single Christmas morning.

I had an aunt who was really 'into' Christmas. She had no children of her own (bless her heart) so she poured out her creativity on me and her grown up siblings who had gathered at my grandparents house.

I could scarcely finish my breakfast. Yes, we had to eat before Santa came. Who in the dickens thought up that rule? Then we'd pile into the living room and set ourselves down either on the couch or in the straight back kitchen chairs somebody had dragged in. And, Aunt Lena would make us sing carols. My heart was just about to bust wide open I was in such a tizzy by this time. Sing? But, sing we did, soft carols of Jesus' birth and stuff like that. And, then she'd call out "Let's sing Jingle Bells. And, sing real loud now." I never caught on that while we all were singing, Aunt Lena was busy keeping an eye out the window.

When we'd get a line or two sung of that joyful "Jingle Bells" you could hear footsteps coming across the front porch and then a loud knock. Aunt Lena flew to the door and swung it open. And, lo and behold, there would be Santa Claus in his red suit, his 'tummy' hanging out over both the top and the bottom of that big wide belt, his white beard all askew. But, hey I was a kid. I didn't notice such obvious details. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Santa was here and I had presents in that big ole bag on his back.

I finally got old enough to start paying attention to those 'details', the mishappened 'pillow' stomach, the beard that really hadn't grown on his face but was atttached to his ears by elastic and he had on my mother's shoes. You grow up fast when Santa shrinks from a big bulky man (who had been my uncle) to the size of my petite little mom (who had to take over the task of playing Santa)

Christmas never was the same for me after that. I wish I had never noticed my Mom's shoes sticking out from under Santa's suit. But, we all have to grow up sometime, I guess.