Speaking of Naughty or Nice, what is your take on this as a child who was still allowed to believe in Santa Claus? And just when does this horrid truth become a fiction? Do we know before our parent's know we know? How innocent are we, really?
Old Trunks sometimes wonders why I have so much memory. Can it be converted to hard drive to make a comparison? I will have to ask something who is all knowing.
For the time being, I am remembering being a Santa believer with a brother that was determined to take away the innocence. Even at that age, I grasped tightly to the belief in the jolly old elf.
And on Christmas morning, at about age four or so, I ran to the living room to see what he had left. He had left nothing. I was a good child, why had I been passed over? Not even a lump of coal.
What do kids do when they feel neglected? Cry. And run to their parent's, who are still sleeping and tell all.
And mother said, "Santa got really mixed up, I think I heard him in the closet". And sure enough, Santa had left a small white metal fold up table with a red vinyl top and two folding chairs! I dragged them out of the closet and set them up in the living room next to the fireplace. By the time my parent's got up, my dolls and I were having a tea party.
Santa would come a few more years. We all have told our children about how there is a Santa in all of us. It is a lame story, but it allows them to cover up their story and at the same time let's us bridge to adulthood, or unsanta time.
Where did Santa leave your gift?