There we were, sitting in Mrs. Farrington’s music class, watching Christmas movies and singing, “Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go!” It was a half-day at school, the day before Christmas vacation. And the teachers pooled us all in the biggest room in the school and killed time with these kinds of activities. Everyone was ready for the long and jolly week ahead. I remember my 2nd grade adrenaline pumping through my small veins, so excited to go home early. Not only were thoughts of sugarplums dancing in my head, but I couldn’t wait to go to Grandma’s house and see all of my cousins. Oh, and the presents. In my mind, Santa and I were tight. So I scored big every year. The thoughts of sledding during the day for hours, helping my mom bake the 15 dozen cut-out sugar cookies on Christmas Eve, drinking hot chocolate, and running downstairs on Christmas morning were enough to make me smile for weeks to come.
Christmas as a child really was so magical, and I remember how devastated I was when the reality finally struck: there was no Santa. Continue reading