Santa's Visit

The metronome ticking of the hall clock was interrupted by a whirring sound as tiny hammers prepared to play the hour.  Listening and counting under my breath, I heard the reverberant sound twelve times.

“It’s midnight” I said. “Do you think they’re asleep yet?”  My wife looked at me through sleep deprived eyes.  The look said I was a hopeless optimist.

From the bedroom, excited murmurs could be heard reminiscent of the cicada’s that had covered our yard last summer.

With a sigh, I pulled myself up from the recliner preparing to go down the hall.  Grumbling, I murmured “This is the real Christmas tradition.”

Did you know six-year olds have a built in “parent’s radar?”  As I peeked in the door, TJ and Kristi were under their covers with only the faint sound of giggling and shaking blankets to show that excitement still reigned.

“For the last time, muppets, Santa doesn’t stop at houses where little kiddos aren’t asleep. It’s after midnight and he’ll be here any time,” I said in my best parents-know-these-things voice.  I turned and went back down the hall, the sound of false snoring following my retreat.

Dark thoughts were clouding my mind. Why had I bought all those some-assembly-required toys?  What kind of a masochist was I? I shook my head, hoping for an answer that didn’t have the flavor of my wife’s voice saying “I told you so!”  It would take hours to put together everything!  As I entered the small living room, the twinkling lights on the tree and the comforting smell of pine softened my mood.

De-dah-de-dah.  The quarter hour chimed in proper Westminster fashion and faint stirrings could still be heard. 

“Look,” I said. “I can start putting together the stuff… laying it out.  If I don’t start soon, we’re not sleeping tonight!”  My wife looked at me - funny how she can communicate so well without speaking – and then, for emphasis, whispered “No.  Not while they’re awake.”

Okay, I thought, this was getting ridiculous.  “I have an idea,” I said, giving her a wink. “I’ll be right back!”  I took her staring silence as consent.

Quietly, I went through the kitchen, stopping to pick up a glass and a couple of spoons, and proceeded out the back door.  Carefully sneaking around the side of the house, I positioned my self outside the kid’s bedroom window.  “Hah,” I thought, “this will make them believers!”  I jangled the spoons in the glass to make sleigh bell sounds and, with my deepest voice, I exclaimed “Ho, ho, ho.”

I was not expecting the sounds of screams nor the thumping of small feet on the floor.

I rushed back into the house to find TJ and Kristi in their mother’s arms wailing “Santa’s gone… Santa’s gone!”  The look from my wife, however, was fully expected.  Did I mention how eloquent her looks are?

“Hey guys” I said, “Calm down!  I spoke with Santa.  He has a lot of houses to get to so he promised he’d be back.”  After several minutes of reassurance, I finally got them snuggled back in their beds.

As the clock once again reminded me of the late hour, the house grew quiet with the soft sounds of sleep.  Time to unpack all of Santa’s gifts and set them up…

It was Christmas morning and, bleary eyed but knowing that soon excitement would swirl around the room like the scent of pine that filled it, all was right with the world.

As I bent to my task, I felt my wife approach.  With a hug, she murmured “Next year, let’s NOT have any early visits.”  Then, with a tired smile she said “Merry Christmas, Santa.”


(616 words)  Thank you for taking the time to read.  Please take a few extra seconds and leave a comment.  Both criticism and praise are equally welcome
Ken