Santa's Visit

This is a true story as told by a mother who wanted to give her son at least one more Christmas with Santa Claus....

    My only child (Carter) was 9 years old and in the third grade. A good child growing up before my very eyes. Several of his friends had other siblings who had supposedly given them the scoop on the Santa scam, which they freely shared with the "less-informed".
    As Christmas 2004 grew closer, the Santa subject repeatedly found its way into our conversations on our way to and from school, and often at bedtime. It went something like this... "Mom, So&so says there's no Santa. Says your parents get the gifts (pause for response)". And I would always reply something like this... "You know what they say--when you stop believing, Santa stops coming. Too bad for them".
    Then one day in the car after this very same exchange, he added, "I would give up all my gifts this year if I could just SEE Santa myself!" Well, that was all it took. I would move heaven and earth to make Santa real for him at least one more Christmas.
    I mentioned the all-out search for the "real" Santa to my friend/dentist, who promptly supplied a phone number where Santa could be reached. She assured me that this was the realest Santa around. So on that recommendation, I phoned Santa and made arrangements for a special visit to our home on Christmas Eve.
    I explained the situation. There would be no actual meeting. We didn't even want secret video-taping of the event. We just wanted a real visit from the real Santa.
    And so it went like this. At about 11:45 p.m. on December 24, 2004 we were all in bed asleep when I got a cell phone call from Santa. (Luckily my cell phone was beside my bed.) He was at our front door! I tip-toed thru the house and quickly ascended the stairs to Carter's bedroom. I gently shook him explaining that when I checked on the barking dog I had spotted Santa outside the front door. Together we hurriedly descended the stairs and sneaked thru the kitchen and crawled into the front dining room under the dining table. It was the perfect spot from which to observe the front door/foyer and across to the formal living room where the Christmas tree stood. We were huddled there under the table while Santa entered the house with perfect timing and went straight to the Christmas tree. He admired the individual ornaments. He inspected the gifts already under the tree. And of course, upon finding the plate with cookies and milk, he sat down briefly and had a bit of a refreshment. Then it was back to work. First he placed Carter's gift on the sofa--positioning it just so. After that, he went around into the family room where the fireplace was. Carter and I backed out from under the table quietly, sneaking back thru the kitchen where we repositioned ourselves at the edge of the stairs. From here we could view the filling of the stockings. Periodically we could here Santa chuckle a low "ho, ho, ho" just like in the stories. It was like he really got a kick out of doing his job. (Carter and I would later discuss this and agree that he truly must be a great guy.) When the stocking job was done, Santa returned to the front room and we returned to our post under the dining table. Carter was shivering at this point and as I held him close I offered to wrap him in my housecoat. He whispered, "I'm not that cold, I'm just so excited!"
    Santa hesitated just then and turned in our direction as if he'd possibly heard something. We froze in silence fearing we'd been discovered. But he went on with his careful inspection of the gifts under the tree, stopping once again to reposition Carter's gift on the sofa. Then gathered up his bag and went out the front door. Carter and I stayed perfectly still in our hiding place for one second more in case Santa returned for some reason. Then we ran to the front door to see the sleigh and reindeer. But much to our disappointment, he'd gone in a flash. No sign of him anywhere. It was like magic. No. It WAS magic.
    Now 1 year later, Carter is 10 years old and in the fourth grade. We feel sorry for the kids who don't believe in Santa any more. You know, the ones whose parents have to buy their gifts. Because we KNOW there is a real Santa. He's been in our house, and we expect him again this year. Even if we sleep right thru it.

 Kathy Holmes