Santa Comes Through

"This blizzard's here until Christmas morning," the TV weatherman said.  "It came from the North Pole for sure.  The roads are closed except for 4-wheel drives."

A white Christmas is good, but two feet of snow?  My little brother was afraid that Santa couldn't get through.  He was right to be afraid.  At eleven, I knew Santa's helper, a.k.a. Dad, wouldn't get to the mall for the shopping he was supposed to do weeks ago.

"Mom, Richard won't understand it when the Transformer Trucks on his list aren't under the tree," I complained to our Mother.

"Now Thomas, have faith that Santa will come through," she replied.

"Ah, that stuff's OK for Richard, but Santa's not going to bring my iPad," I said.  "Stupid snow."

"Make the most of it Thomas," suggested Mom.  "You, your brother, and your friends can go sledding in back while Dad shovels the front walk."

The snow was so deep that it took several runs to pack it down.  Then it was great.  We'd shoot down to the bottom of our yard.  Sometimes two or three at a time in a big race.

Dad was shoveling.  The other Dads were too.  Snow was sticking to their jackets.  When they came together it looked like a gathering of snow men.  The gang of snow men also cleared the Johnson's driveway

Mom made hot chocolate, with marshmallows, the best way!  Since it was Christmas eve, our parents didn't have any trouble getting us to bed early.

It was still snowing Christmas morning, but somehow Santa made it through.  Richard got his fighting truck.  I got my iPad.

Dad got a new shirt, but looking out at the snow, said he was starting his list for next Christmas.  At the top would be an SUV like Mr. Johnson's.