First of all, remember who I am.  Yep, I'm the horrible old ratbag who makes sarcastic remarks and has been referred to as a "forum nazi".  Which ain't very nice.  It should have been "Yes Sir! Mr Forum Nazi Sir!", if anything.   

Anyhow, y'all may not know but I'm the least spiritual/religious person you could ever shake a stick at (assuming you're the kind of person who shakes sticks, that is) and generally not given to flights of fancy.  In fact, me dear departed mom thought I was born cynical and got worse as I got older.

Have to say, I thought I was a very lucky child.  My mom and dad loved me and took great care to ensure I had everything I needed and a lot more besides.  I didn't know it then but as I grew up I discovered we weren't so well off.  In fact, we were pretty damn poor but, eternal thanks to my parents, I never felt I missed out on anything.  You know how some people go the extra mile?  That's what my mom and dad did for me.  Which leads me to this weird and wonderful thing...

I was 7 years old and pretty clued up by that time.  I'd figured there wasn't really a Santa Claus. or as we called him here, Father Christmas. because I knew all about the size of the world, accelleration, mass and that sorta stuff (yup, I had a good head for math and physics) but also, I remembered the guy I'd seen in Santa's Grotto was a different one from the one who came to see us at School.  See?  Nothing much gets past me.  

Even so, I was a happy kid, and looking forward to the whole shebang.  I'd hung up my Christmas stocking (one of my grey school socks) and a pillowcase, left a cup of tea (apparently Santa didn't dig Scotch) and a mince pie and a carrot for Rudolph, then gone to bed.  It was pretty late for me but, smart as I was, I didn't work out for some years that mom had let me stay up late in the hope she'd be getting some peace in the morning because I'd be too tired to run into their bedroom, dragging my bag full of presents.

It'd been an exciting day; back then when I was a kid, we were guaranteed snow in December and, true to form, it snowed like billy-o.  Wow, was my eyesight ever that good?  Yup, I really could see individual snowflakes.  That kept me occupied for ages.  So, Christmas Eve, it's snowing like fit to beat the band and cold as you please.  My mom was cooking the bird and the other roasts, so she could let them rest, to serve cold the next day- apparently the Italian way, I learned later.  Frank Sinatra was on the record player and the old Christmas Carol movie with Alistair Sim on telly.  

Dad wanted to go to the off license (American guys and gals will know it as a liquor store) to get some beer and wine, and asked me to walk with him.  Yay!  Big adventure in the snow when you're 7 years old.  Also, where I lived at the time was all hills and steep inclines, which made it much more fun for me.  And, being out and about at almost 10 pm!  Wheee!

We bought all the stuff we'd gone for, plus a bottle of Cream Soda in some hideous bright green colour that I loved.  Yep, I was one happy nipper.

Got back home to find mom had made us all sandwiches.  Ate those, drank some of my bright green pop and went to bed.  I remember how the whole world seemed to be so luminous, with all the light reflecting off the snow.  It was even glowing through my curtains.  Oh well, excited and happy as I was, I fell asleep.  Like Radiohead said, "The deep, deep sleep of the innocent".  If I dreamed, I don't remember.

Quick as a shot, I woke up.  Wide - and I do mean WIDE - awake.  I heard Santa's sleigh sliding off our roof.  Really, heard - and felt - the runners going and heard the bells.  I heard a big, booming voice shouting, "Up and awaaaaay!!!!" trailing off into the distance, off into the sky.  I was entranced.  I looked at my clock, it was 2:25 am.  I didn't, however, get out of bed.  I just lay there, too excited to move, thinking about what I just heard.  Eventually I fell asleep.  Needless to say, when I awoke later, I found the gent in red had left me lots of great stuff and I was suitably grateful and extremely impressed.

Now, years later, here's the thing that gets me...

I know my dad set it up somehow.  I wasn't dreaming when I heard all that stuff.  I was wide awake.  Besides, I have - and had - too literal an imagination to dream that, especially since I was already in the know as to how Santa was a sham.  That said, I have no idea how my dad did it.  He didn't have a tape recorder, nor a record player good enough to carry off that whole thing.  I really felt the sleigh runners above my bedroom, heard Santa's voice carry off into the distance.

I've asked my dad about it several times but he says nothing, just nods and smiles.  

If nothing else, I learned my dad is magic.

Every single word is true, I swear it.

Happy Christmas to you all.

Great story!

Dads can do anything (include being superman), thats because they are your dad :-)

Merry X-mas to you too.

Regards / Jonny

Fantastic story! I love it!

Ya know, when my kids were little, me and my brother always got their goat by doing the whole santa/reindeer on the roof thing... {they now know it was us, but they still, to this day, do not know how we pulled it off}

Excellent story Sam! Maybe you should write a book? My Dad used to shovel deer poop onto the roof of the house and then excitedly drag all of us out in the morning to show us that Santa had, indeed, been there the night before!

Thanks for reading it all, gang.  It really did happen and, all these years later, my dad still won't tell me how he did it.  Which means I'm gonna have to figure out something suitably impressive for my own children, should we be so blessed.

I'll be sure to tell them this story, though.  Maybe I'll leave it until they get older; I want them to believe in Santa for some years first.

As for writing a book, I'm working on one but it's not at all in the same vein.  Hey, I'm just a wordy bastard when I get started.  :biggrin:

This was a really touching story.  I had a life like that also, it brought back memories and it warmed my heart to read this.  Thank you, I needed a little push for this season.  Sharen

LOL Paul that was an awesome story to read...

I remember being in what was my Nans house.... it was a huge victorian house that was split into 3 flats. We had the upper floor flat and rented it out.  Now each room had a fireplace and every xmas eve we would go asleep and of course I would wake up first, run into my sisters room, pull the cover off her, run into my bed and wait for her to come in so she could get told off for being up first...pushes halo back on head....and one night I was lying there waiting and I heard bells....and lots of them but very faintly..... I was like OMG..... and sat listening......and was that excited I ran into my mum and my nannas bedroom who all were fast asleep and was like omg omg omg....I just heard santas reindeers bells....

I remember sitting there all day just going on about it.  I still, to this day, reckon it was real.

As they say in Miracle on 34th Street......I believe ;O)

Great story Paul!

My Mum used to always go that extra mile, too. She never pulled off anything of that calibre, but she made it a lot of fun.

One year we woke up to find that she'd left us a kind of treasure hunt all over the house with clues to guide us to find our eventual stash of pressies. The clues were all beautifully written and decorated with little bows and things. I reckon the hunt must have lasted about half an hour, which was pretty inventive seeing as we didn't have a big house. Great fun.

When I was grown up, I mentioned it to my Mum one time as the best Christmas I could remember, and she burst into tears, and told me that she'd done it to try to distract us from not having many presents. My Dad had walked out on her (again) at the beginning of December that year and not left her with anything but bills.

Both my sister and I can remember very clearly the whole hunt thing, but neither of us can remember noticing, much less caring, that our Dad wasn't there. Which kind of says it all.

Sadly, by the time I got my stepson he was already not believing in Santa anymore. But if I'd thought I could pull off a feat like your Dad, I'd have gone for it!

Quote - ...Sadly, by the time I got my stepson he was already not believing in Santa anymore. But if I'd thought I could pull off a feat like your Dad, I'd have gone for it!

I'm damn sure you'd do a fine job of it too.

You know what, though?  The bugger still won't tell me how he did it.  Now, that's just unfair.

You need to have some kids, quick, then he might tell you. Hurry up cos I wanna know too! :lol:

These are cool stories. they remid me of stuff my folks did when we were little. My dad would go outside and ring jingle bells(whici we never woke up for) and my mom would tell how she woke to the dog barking as if there was someone there and then "magically stopped".

One year when my brother was just starting to not believe he woke up and heard all sorts of noise outside and was too afraid to see what it was and thought it might be Santa. It turned out that some animal had killed a rabbit or 2 outside and knock over our garbage cans and firewood pile. Guess what we spent the morning doing?

Now if only I could figure out something to do to get my son excited about Chirstmas and Santa. He has trouble understanding verbal speech and learns mostly by doing or seeing. Even though he's 4 he doesn't seem to understand what's going to happen.

**Loved the story Sam!!

The same thing happened to my older brother.  It was the same year he showed me where the presents were hidden in the top of my parent's closet while they were gone for a little bit.  He swears to this day that my dad was on the roof top with coconut halves to simulate the hoof beats.**

We let our daughter "see Santa" last year.  I went upstairs to say goodnight "heard a noise" and went to look.  Dad was downstairs in the schools Santa suit and the top of the stairs has a view to the livingroom.  We watched him go from the tree to the fireplace where the stockings were and then dissapear.    My son knew what we were doing but my daughters heart was beating so fast and her adrenaline was going so much that she almost threw up over the experience.   :)  

This year we had to tell her the truth.  :(