SANTA FEVER.

 

It was Christmas Eve. The family had gathered.  Aunts and Uncles arrived with gifts that couldn’t be opened till to-morrow… oh…how frustrating… At the adult table we were exchanging gossip and news.  At the children’s table, all was fine till they’d finished eating.   They did their best but, Santa fever  was starting to rise.  And there’s no remedy for it but Santa himself.  Juice glasses got knocked over and small toys  could take someone’s eye out.   Parents were admirably patient.   I joined the kids.

“Who’d like to hear a story?”I asked.

“Yeah!”

“It’s about the time I saw Santa with my very own eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to the playroom.”

The children and I adjourned, settled down and I began.

“A long time ago when I was a little girl….”

I brought them up to the point on Christmas Eve when the moon, shining in through my window, woke me up.

I expected the older children, on the frontiers of doubt, might  be sceptical but no, they were gratifyingly wide-eyed.

“And you know, when the moon shines through your window,” I said, “sometimes, you just have to get out of bed?”

All the heads nodded agreement.

“And  when you’re looking out at the moon, sometimes, you just have to open the window?”

More nods.

“The moon was big and silver and the whole sky was twinkling with stars.   And then, I heard …ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting…”

“Santa,” yelled  E. “I’m going for cake!”

That’s what I call a critique!