Christmas is finally here and with it comes a plethora of memories, both happy and sad. Remember the excitement of waiting for Santa to come on Christmas Eve? I sure can. In fact, I even saw the jolly old elf!
I was six years old and shared a roll-away bed with my sister and I slept on the side that was closest to the door. I suppose Santa thought everyone was asleep, but I wasn’t. Santa had arrived, and I was lying in the hall trying to hear him. I would settle for anything. The tinkle of the jingle bells, the thumping of reindeer’s hooves on the roof, or the chatter of Santa’s helpers… anything. I heard something. Footsteps! I was so scared that I covered my head with the blankets, leaving a small space to peek from. I knew it was Santa. I was six years old, a firm believer, and a firm believer like me just knows these things. Well, the footsteps got closer and closer. Soon, I saw a figure dressed all in red and carrying a sack over his back. Yay, Santa was here! Wait until I told everyone in my family that I’d seen the big man.
The next morning eventually came, and we all marched out to the living room to open our gifts. Now, the tradition in our house was for my father to go out first, by himself, light the tree, and find out if Santa came. When Dad yelled to us we could come out, my whole family would line up and march to the living room singing Jingle Bells. We received several gifts from Santa that year, including Lincoln Logs. Maybe I’m dating myself here, but I have to ask. Do you remember them?
I told my family what I’d seen. My younger siblings were eager to believe me, but my parents were harder. In fact, my mother didn’t believe me at all. I tried everything that was in my six-year-old arsenal to make her believe me. I probably even tried crying. I know I didn’t have a tantrum. We just didn’t get away with that stuff back then. I’d be sent back to bed if I did until I straightened up and put a smile on. I wouldn’t leave my new Lincoln Logs, so the tantrum never happened.
This makes for a great family Christmas story to tell my nieces, nephews, and now my great nieces and nephews.
I’m thinking of writing the Christmas memory I just shared with you into a picture book. Of course, we all have sad memories connected with this time of year. For instance, losing loved ones that passed on through the year.
Do you have any Christmas memories that you can turn into a story? Do you have Christmas traditions you can weave into that story? I’m interested in hearing all of your Christmas experiences and traditions. So, leave a comment and let me know!
I was six years old and shared a roll-away bed with my sister and I slept on the side that was closest to the door. I suppose Santa thought everyone was asleep, but I wasn’t. Santa had arrived, and I was lying in the hall trying to hear him. I would settle for anything. The tinkle of the jingle bells, the thumping of reindeer’s hooves on the roof, or the chatter of Santa’s helpers… anything. I heard something. Footsteps! I was so scared that I covered my head with the blankets, leaving a small space to peek from. I knew it was Santa. I was six years old, a firm believer, and a firm believer like me just knows these things. Well, the footsteps got closer and closer. Soon, I saw a figure dressed all in red and carrying a sack over his back. Yay, Santa was here! Wait until I told everyone in my family that I’d seen the big man.
The next morning eventually came, and we all marched out to the living room to open our gifts. Now, the tradition in our house was for my father to go out first, by himself, light the tree, and find out if Santa came. When Dad yelled to us we could come out, my whole family would line up and march to the living room singing Jingle Bells. We received several gifts from Santa that year, including Lincoln Logs. Maybe I’m dating myself here, but I have to ask. Do you remember them?
I told my family what I’d seen. My younger siblings were eager to believe me, but my parents were harder. In fact, my mother didn’t believe me at all. I tried everything that was in my six-year-old arsenal to make her believe me. I probably even tried crying. I know I didn’t have a tantrum. We just didn’t get away with that stuff back then. I’d be sent back to bed if I did until I straightened up and put a smile on. I wouldn’t leave my new Lincoln Logs, so the tantrum never happened.
This makes for a great family Christmas story to tell my nieces, nephews, and now my great nieces and nephews.
I’m thinking of writing the Christmas memory I just shared with you into a picture book. Of course, we all have sad memories connected with this time of year. For instance, losing loved ones that passed on through the year.
Do you have any Christmas memories that you can turn into a story? Do you have Christmas traditions you can weave into that story? I’m interested in hearing all of your Christmas experiences and traditions. So, leave a comment and let me know!
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