The Truth About Santa

This is just a little story about how my Christmas was almost ruined one year. I hope you enjoy!

Warning – Do not read this book if you are a believer of Santa.

Do you believe in Santa?

It all started when I was six years old. It was Christmas Eve and my family and I were huddled in the clean kitchen, making messy cookies. Every child looks forward to Christmas, and this year, I was bouncing around the house with excitement. “Mom, I’m going to see Santa this year,” I announced, my eyes gleaming with hopefulness.

“Anya, don’t be silly. I’m sure you want to get to sleep to open your presents tomorrow,” exclaimed my mom. She made a fair point. But who wants to miss the chance to meet Santa Clause? I quietly decided that I would stay up all night, no matter what my parents said. A picture of Santa quickly entered my mind. His fluffy white beard which reminded me of a cloud. Santa’s bright red suit which glowed in the darkness. Maybe Santa would even let me pet his amazing reindeers. I squealed with excitement at the thought of meeting him. But, unfortunately, that would be later on.

Right now, I was occupied with decorating cookies. I pulled up the sleeves of my bright red sweater and took off my bracelet which looked like Christmas lights. I couldn’t risk getting my clothes stained with the colorful frosting.

“It would be a bad first impression when I meet Santa,” I quietly thought to myself.

Finally, the cookies were done and ready. A delicious smell led me close to the oven in which cookies of different holiday shapes were baking. Without even knowing it, I began to drool with hunger.

“Anya, take some cookies,” whispered Dad as he watched me gaze at the cookies. I quickly gobbled my cookies, savoring each bite, and got ready for bed. I pranced and danced around the house with joy while my tiny sister attempted to walk, but collapsed.

“Please be more careful,” commanded Mom as my sister clung to her waist. “It’s time for you to go to bed.” Paying heed to Mom’s words, I skipped to the comfort of my bed. I pulled the cool sheets over my tired body and tried my best to stay awake. Unfortunately, moments later, I was snoring away like a peaceful lawn mower.

“Crash!” A loud bang woke me up and I jerked up in my bed. Santa had arrived! Scampering down the stairs, I noticed that there wasn’t the comforting sound of jingle bells. Instead, I heard whispering. Something was definitely wrong. The mental picture of Santa refueled my mind with confidence. I was ready to meet him. Peering over the Christmas tree, instead of Santa, my parents were sprawled across the floor, wrapping presents and snacking on cookies! There wasn’t a fluffy white beard in that picture. The only red seemed to be the frosting that my dad was licking off his fingers. Obviously, there wasn’t a majestic reindeer that I was expecting to see. My mind then exploded with anger that no powerful bomb could overdo.

As I stormed towards my parents, their facial expression changed dramatically. The gaped in horror and looked as if I was about to kill them.

“You’ve been lying to me?” I asked while gasping in loud sobs. There was no explanation needed because my parents had indeed lied. I chewed on my short fingernails as I waited for an answer.

“I’m so sorry, Anya,” whispered my mom finally. I screamed in anger and frustration. My parents immediately tried to comfort me, but it didn’t work. The thrill of Christmas was gone. I looked like a painting without color. There wasn’t even a trace of happiness in my body. It wasn’t a good experience in my life. I sulked back to my room and sat there for hours.

Christmas morning soon arrived bringing along with it beautiful sunshine and cool frost. While the rest of my family was happily opening presents, my mind buzzed. This time, not with anger, but with loneliness. I longed to open my presents that I had been wanting for months. “It’s not fair,” I thought miserably.

Then, my mom surprised me. “Anya, come, open your presents,” she said with a grin.

“Okay. Only because you say so,” I called, secretly happy that I got to open my presents. Christmas didn’t even turn out that bad.

Even though I know the truth about Santa, I now think that the importance of family and friends opposes my initial idea that Santa was the key to Christmas. Laughter, happiness, and family is really what’s important during Christmas.     

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