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Sleepy Santa

I grew up the youngest of three children, with an older brother and an older sister. Our father was a physician and he often had to work on holidays and weekends.

One Christmas Eve, my father was working, so my mom took us to her parent’s house and we celebrated with them. After we got home, the three of us ran off to bed, excited for Santa to come the next morning!

At this point, both of my siblings knew Santa wasn’t real, but I still believed. I laid out a plate of sugar cookies that I had haphazardly frosted myself that day.

I hurried off to bed, nearly jumping out of my skin with excitement about opening all of my presents the next morning!

Early the next day, probably around 5 or 6 in the morning, I awoke with a start. It was Christmas morning! I woke-up my brother and sister and we ran out to the living room to check out all of the goodies Santa had brought us.

We entered the room to see the tree brimming with presents underneath! There was so many we were awestruck. But then, we noticed our three stockings lain on the floor, half full.

And then we looked up to the couch, where my mother lay sleeping, the plate of half eaten cookies lay before her and icing was smeared across her cheek.

We all dissolved into giggles and my mom woke up quickly, embarrassed. Even after this, I still believed in Santa. I just thought that maybe he had shared his cookies with my mom.

Unexpected Disaster
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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