The Most Precious Memory of All

I don't think I ever believed in Santa Claus.... At least not until I had kids. I remember when I was little we spent the night at my Aunt's house once on Christmas Eve. She had 4 kids and Christmas morning at her house was very different than what I was used to. I remember waking up and watching her kids plow into their stockings which were filled beyond belief with candy and little carnival like toys. I sat there with my eyes as big a saucers. I had never seen so much candy and crap in my life. I was so impressed that I vowed I would make Christmas morning a big deal when I had kids of my own. My husband has never understood the point, but we always had our gifts, which were wrapped, and Santa's gifts which were not wrapped. After much debate when we first got married, we opened our gifts on Christmas Eve. His family had always opened them on Christmas morning and I swear you would have thought  it was a crime against nature when I begged to do it differently. To this day I'd almost bet that he repents on Christmas Eve after committing such a sin. After the kids were tucked in bed, which was a HUGE ordeal, we would lay out the Santa gifts along with the stockings. My favorite time of Christmas happened about 4 in the morning when my oldest son would wake up and run downstairs. There would be a slight pause, often a gasp and then he would run  back upstairs as quietly as possible into his sister's room. Waking her was not only a challenge, but also a very risky decision. She would often wake up in a rage with flying fists so extreme caution was a top priority. Together they would wake baby brother and all three of them would run back downstairs. I could hear them showing each other their gifts with excited whispers. It was a magical gift in itself to lay in bed and hear them enjoy the surprises of the season. My two oldest are adults now and to be honest my youngest never has really bought into the whole Santa thing which is a real drag for me. He is content to wake up at noon then saunter downstairs with little to no expression of excitement (hmm, wonder where he gets that from?). I'm still trying to get used to not having little ones around for the holidays. The awe of the season is such a joy to watch through little eyes..... And the pitter patter of little feet  (in pajamas with the feet in them) is the most precious memory of all.