Spoiler Alert: If you still think a fat man in a red suit actually comes down your chimney to fill your stocking, stop reading right now!
I remember the year I figured out that Santa wasn't really the one filling my stocking. I slept with my bedroom door open in those days, but this Christmas Eve, my mom came to close my door for some reason. I wouldn't let her, so she kept it opened. That's when it happened. It was a sad, sad moment: I saw my mom carrying a paper grocery bag downstairs. Sticking out of the top of the bag was a small stuffed Smurf. (Side note: did all of you LOVE Smurfs like I did? I even had a Smurf themed birthday party, and my mom wrote "Happy Smurfday" on the cake! Good times!!)
Christmas morning came and I went down to see what Santa left me in my stocking. One of the items...a small stuffed Smurf. Nothing like a Smurf to shatter a child's vision of Santa Claus! I need to go wipe my tears now...
2 comments:
I believed in Santa a LONG time. I kept telling my friends "No, there has to be a Santa. My Mom and Dad are poor and we have 7 kids and we ALWAYS get what we want!"
Thanks for sharing your Christmas memories! I've loved reading them.
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