I still remember the moment I realized there was no Santa Clause. It was Christmas Eve, 1985. I had stayed up all night waiting for ole’ Saint Nicholas, but, of course, he never came. I was crushed.
A few moments later, my children burst into the living room looking for their presents. Naturally, they thought I had stolen the presents and began kicking me and hurling obscenities. Eventually the kicking subsided and, piled up in the middle of the floor, we all shared a little cry. In the end, isn’t that what Christmas is all about? (In some cultures?)
1 comment:
Vali, why are you refuting the existence of the lighthearted holiday romp The Santa Clause?
PS: Ya burnt.
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