Christmas I Remember Best: Pardon me, Papa Noel

Naturally, I had a hard time falling asleep, not because of remorse, I'm sorry to admit, but because of just plain greed.

At long last, morning came. I ran to the scene of the crime, so to speak, and reached eagerly inside the boots. Too my utter dismay, I found a garland of onions in the first one and one of garlic in the other. I was thunderstruck and stared in disbelief. For a fleeting moment, suspicion fell on Mama, but no, perish the thought, my sweet angel of a mother could not have done anything so cruel, so underhanded, so perverse. No, it was just Papa Noel telling me in no uncertain terms that he was up to my tricks and that Christmas was finally over.

A repented and a much wiser little girl went back to bed to find warmth and solace under the big fluffy comforter. I was not to grieve too long because that was not in my nature. I had so much to be thankful for anyway. My parents and my sister loved me greatly, the bed was soft and warm and life was good. Yes, life was very good. After all, I had had my moment of triumph, my moment of glory, and how many 8-year-olds could brag that they had tricked Papa Noel, even just once?