crazietalk.net

OZZIE4DUKE wrote:I still believe. I buy Powerball tickets twice a week... I believe, I believe.

I remember going to church for Christmas eve late night service, and on the way home staring at the sky for the entire duration of the drive looking for Rudolph's nose.

CameronBornAndBred wrote:I don't remember our age, (I think 6 or 7), but my sister was the one who destroyed my fantasy when she noted that mom & dad used the same wrapping paper as Santa.

We always used different paper for gifts from Santa and gifts from us. Still do!

Oh my. When I married ExLax, I was astounded to learn that his Santa actually wrapped gifts--->(My OCD exMIL).

My Santa never wrapped my gifts when I was a kid. He just put them out on the hearth underneath the stockings.

OZZIE4DUKE wrote:

CameronBornAndBred wrote:I don't remember our age, (I think 6 or 7), but my sister was the one who destroyed my fantasy when she noted that mom & dad used the same wrapping paper as Santa.

We always used different paper for gifts from Santa and gifts from us. Still do!

We use separate "Santa" paper, and each of our kids gets a different "Santa" paper so we know what's what right away.

And like Cathy, my Santa never wrapped my presents.

bjornolf wrote:[
And like Cathy, my Santa never wrapped my presents.

Maybe that's why the North Pole has no trees. The damn elves chopped em all down for wrapping paper, until they finally ran out.

Miles wrote: You can "bah humbug" me if you want, but if I had kids I'd probably be one of those parents that didn't support the Santa Claus/Easter Bunny myths.

I once had sex with the Easter Bunny.

-EarlJam

Santa.... Santa isn't real!?

Santa's real. But if he doesn't stop kissing mommies and running over grandma's he might wish he wasn't

Jesus_hurley wrote:Santa's real. But if he doesn't stop kissing mommies and running over grandma's he might wish he wasn't

i STILL BELIEVE IN SANTA! I like being his HELPER ALSO! But, he never mentioned anything about those lonely mommies!!!! He said just be REAL Quiet!!!! ;)

Adventure With Grandma

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and wrote on the package, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.

Every little kindness you do during this holiday season is showing Santa to someone. Have a very Merry Christmas.

And a Happy Chanukah!

OK, 1) I still believe in Santa but

2) the summer between second and third grade, my younger brother and I confronted our mother. She had decided that she wouldn't tell us but she wouldn't lie if we asked her directly so, when we asked if she was really Santa, she told us yes. I still feel bad that I got one more Christmas than my brother. He's forgiven me, especially since asking Mom was his idea. I'm glad we did it far away from Christmas time.

Miles! Shame on you! The Easter Bunny, OK, I'm not an Easter Bunny pusher myself, but Santa? Here's the thing. Kids get it about Santa Claus because, for the most part, when you tell them not to ruin it for other kids, they don't tell! Yes, a few brats do, but mostly they don't tell. Two of my sons still believe (Ok, the 9 year old maybe doesn't but he hasn't admitted it yet) and the older two go out of their way to keep it fun for the youngest. It's fun to believe in Santa Claus. Don't deprive your kids of that!

DukieInKansas wrote:Adventure With Grandma...

...He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.

Every little kindness you do during this holiday season is showing Santa to someone. Have a very Merry Christmas.

And a Happy Chanukah!

What an amazing story, DinK!

What a beautiful story, DinK! THAT's what Christmas is about.
I don't remember when I learned that my parents were Santa's helpers (although I'm sure Miles' Dad had something to do with it...), but I do remember keeping the secret safe for my little sister. I also remember once being a bit too nosy in my parents' room and discovering a fabulous doll about a big as I was. When I asked what it was, my Mother told me it was for my cousin. Something about the way she said it told me that it hadn't been intended for my cousin, but we wrapped it up and gave it to her. To this day I'm not the least bit concerned with finding out what presents are until they are in my hand and I get to unwrap them - no poking under the Christmas tree for me!

What a wonderful story, DinK! You, your grandma and the store clerk have hearts of gold and truly are Santa!

Now, about tonight's Powerball drawing......

Just so you know - I'm not the person in the story - either the grandma or the child. The story was just too good not to share. Kind of a Virginia/Santa story and a reminder of what we should be celebrating.

Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone.

Bostondevil wrote:OK, 1) I still believe in Santa but

2) the summer between second and third grade, my younger brother and I confronted our mother. She had decided that she wouldn't tell us but she wouldn't lie if we asked her directly so, when we asked if she was really Santa, she told us yes. I still feel bad that I got one more Christmas than my brother. He's forgiven me, especially since asking Mom was his idea. I'm glad we did it far away from Christmas time.

Miles! Shame on you! The Easter Bunny, OK, I'm not an Easter Bunny pusher myself, but Santa? Here's the thing. Kids get it about Santa Claus because, for the most part, when you tell them not to ruin it for other kids, they don't tell! Yes, a few brats do, but mostly they don't tell. Two of my sons still believe (Ok, the 9 year old maybe doesn't but he hasn't admitted it yet) and the older two go out of their way to keep it fun for the youngest. It's fun to believe in Santa Claus. Don't deprive your kids of that!

Shame? Ouch.

DukieInKansas wrote:Adventure With Grandma

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her
Bible) and wrote on the package, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under a tree.

Every little kindness you do during this holiday season is showing Santa to someone. Have a very Merry Christmas.

And a Happy Chanukah!

DinK - absolutely beautiful and touching story! I am still looking for my kleenex! Thank you for sharing this!

DukieInKansas wrote:Just so you know - I'm not the person in the story - either the grandma or the child. The story was just too good not to share. Kind of a Virginia/Santa story and a reminder of what we should be celebrating.

Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone.

Regardless, I was there living the entire thing!!! Still a great story and reminder!!!!

DukieInKansas wrote:Just so you know - I'm not the person in the story - either the grandma or the child. The story was just too good not to share. Kind of a Virginia/Santa story and a reminder of what we should be celebrating.

Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone.

You had me fooled! Thanks for sharing, it's a beautiful story.