Burned!

So isn't every kid's favorite holiday Christmas? And isn't it all because of Santa Claus? So it was for me in my younger years. And I developed a burning desire to SEE the old man and thank him in person one year. Burning!

You may have discerned the truth that my parents were disciplinarians. Early bedtimes were their religion, Christmas Eve or not. I knew there was no room for negotiations here, so when I was around six years old, I decided covert operations were my only option. After my two younger sisters, Jan and Cindy, fell asleep in the bedroom, I cautiously, silently inched my way down the stairway.

Holding my breath as I invisibly passed the living room where my parents were occupied, I steathily entered the darkened kitchen. I didn't want to make ANY noise, so opening the broom closet door or anything else was out of the question. The stove was between the refrigerator and the basement door. My only hope! I impossibly wedged myself in the 3 or 4 inch space between the back of the wall and the range (I was skinny!), figuring I would be able to catch Santa scarfing up the milk and cookies. I wondered if I could catch on fire and burn to death if I accidentally touched a wire behind the stove and there would be spontaneous combustion to deal with, but self immolation was a worthy price to pay for the privilege of being the one who got to really really meet Santa in the flesh on his rounds, right? It was a plan! My glorious, giddy plan!!

It HAD to work. I stayed in my dark, confined hiding place for hours, breath by breath anticipating the immortality the coming moment of this imminent encounter would impart. Mind boggling! Still, I guess I fell asleep there finally. The only thing I remember is the horror at being discovered! "What on earth are you doing there?" my mom's voice punctured my North Pole dreams. They pulled me out from behind the stove, and in the dark escorted me back to bed. Oh, the humiliation.

But as we passed the living/dining room I could sense something had changed. Dramatically. I must have noticed the "grocery store" and accoutrements while passing in the semidarkness. Santa had come on my watch! And I HAD MISSED HIM! My one and only chance. I was sick and overwhelmingly excited at the same time. I knew my parents would never let me get away with such a daring attempt ever again, knowing what a devious little devil I had become. Christmas loomed a heartbeat away and had suddenly morphed into the most ominous event of my life. I wasn't even sure if my whole stocking would be full of coal when I got to check it later.

It wasn't. And my sisters and I had the best Christmas ever playing store. But in all the years after, I had to settle for desperately looking for Santa's sleigh in the sky, fully knowing that an up close and personal Christmas Eve rendezvous was ever beyond my devious little reach again.