I have always had a place in my heart for the Christmas memories my parents created for us. One of my favorite stories I like to share with people is the time my father pretended to be Santa Claus.
When I was about 3 and my brother 5, my dad decided to play Santa. We really believed Santa existed and we always put cookies and beer on the mantle near the tree, and we hoped he would come this year... my brother was always under the threat of getting coal in his his stocking.
Anyway, my dad put up an extension ladder against the house near our window and jingled a string of real "jingle bells" bellowing out "ho, ho, ho". My brother and I heard that and we whispered to each other to get under the covers before Santa finds out we were were really awake! We then heard this very loud scraping and imagined Santa's sleigh landing on the roof! Then we heard fairly loud crash, which we "knew" was the heavy sleigh landing (not to mention all those reindeer!). Then we heard Santa calling our mother's name "Dorothy.... Dorothy....."
- His ladder had slid across the side of the house and crashed onto the veranda (enclosed porch) and since the ladder was on the ground "Santa" had no way of getting off the roof of the porch!
The cookies and beer were always gone in the morning!
