A Christmas Story
One year our little one was decidedly unexcited about the coming festival. I asked her what troubled her and she said “You know cousin N says that there is no Santa Claus. And that he doesn’t get us presents. He says its our mummies and daddies. Is this true?” she asked her little brown eyes welling up with tears. She was all of eight years’ old, the age when most myths are busted. Her older sister already knew who Santa was but gamely played along to keep her little sister happy. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth but I still didn’t want to burst her bubble – at least not for one more year. Hoping He would forgive me, I told her very diplomatically, ” Well if you believe in something strongly enough, it comes true.” That seemed to bring back the smile on her face and she went back to her room happy and cheerful.
On Christmas Eve that year she kept out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk on the table near the open window ” For Santa,” she explained to me as she got ready for bed that night. The next morning she got up earlier than ever and was thrilled to bits with the presents that were under her bed.
“See mama, he came!” she told me excitedly.”He even drank up the milk and ate up all the cookies.”
Seeing the sparkle in her eyes, I was happy that I had kept up the charade. The next day in the post there was a special letter for her from Santa Claus, sent from Santa Claus village in Finland. He told her how busy he was that year and how his elves were working round the clock to make sure that no child was forgotten. That letter made her happier than the presents Santa had left for her. She was beaming as she showed me the letter ” Mama, you were right : if you believe in anything hard enough it does really come true!”