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December 21, 2012
santa and me: year one
When I was seven, I determined to get a photo of Santa.
After my parents put me to bed, I snuck downstairs with my pillow in hand and my sister's X-15 camera around my neck. I slipped unnoticed into the family room, where the Christmas tree and, importantly, fireplace were. I pressed into the corner of the couch, hidden under a blanket, index finger poised on the camera's trigger like a cobra prepared to str--
Next thing I knew, I awoke in my own bed. Drat.
I went downstairs to find the expected bounty of presents from Santa. My stocking was stuffed until its seams strained. I reached inside and found a handwritten note.
John Paul,My knees buckled. Terrified and chastened, I told no one. I fake-smiled my way through the opening of presents, exactly as I would later, as an adult.If you EVER try that crap again, I will never give you so much as a lump of coal for as long as you live.
-SC
But by next year, I was again emboldened.
Tomorrow: next year
posted by john at 7:39 AM • permalink