When I was a kid, before I stopped believing in Santa, I thought my parents had a list from Santa and were kind of like the elves helping him. So they left all the toys and stuff in the boot of the car, and Santa retrieved them on Christmas night, then climbed down the chimney, entered the sitting-room through the fireplace, and put presents under the tree or in my slippers (we used slippers instead of stockings).
Then, once I figured out that my parents were actually doing the chimney-climbing (so to speak
), it didn't take me long to realise that the best place to hide presents was my parents' closet (Pam, if I were you I'd find a less obvious hideout
), and so I peeked. Oh, all I could ever see before Christmas was wrapped packages of various shapes and forms, but that was something. I could shake and try to figure out what they were.
Back when I was a kid, we always opened our presents on Christmas morning, after my grandmother arrived at our place for breakfast. It was a magic moment.
Then after my grandmother died, we started going to my mom's friends' place for Christmas Day, and so we switched to opening presents on Christmas Eve, after dinner. Last year, though we reverted back to Christmas morning, as there's more magic into it.
No clue how we're going to handle things this year, as it's the first time we're going to celebrate Christmas at my place, and we'll have two guests of honour: Bethy and her sister.
Kaethel
