Christmas Memories, Part 3: Santa Dad Writes a Note

I think it goes without saying that I am very upset that Tate Stevens beat Carly Rose Sonen-Perfect on X Factor last night. However, I want to keep this lighthearted since it is the Friday before Christmas, so my outrage will be posted in depth at a later date.

Instead, let’s continue right on with the Christmas memories. This memory still makes me crack up today, but first you’ll need a little back story:

When Nicole and I were in school, my Dad would always wake up before us on school days – obviously. This was especially useful when we were expecting snow. Rather than wake us up to tell us that school was closed or we had a delay, he would just slip notes under our doors for us to see if we woke up, so we could just hop right back in bed. I lived for that feeling of paper beneath my feet. In the dark, I would pick it up and make out if the word said “delay” or “closed,” jump for joy, and fall right back asleep.

Okay, got that? I’d imagine that by this point in time I was aware that Santa did not exist. I hope so, because I think I was around ten. Just like every other Christmas Eve, my bug eyes popped open around 3AM. You know the drill by now. I walked to the door and felt a paper under my foot. Confused, I picked up the note. Blind as a bat and in the dark, I read the note that said something along the lines of:


If I still believed in Santa at this point, this note confirmed that he did exist – and his name was “Mom and Dad.” Not only could no one duplicate my Dad’s handwriting, but the classic slip under the door could only be his doing. I put on my goggle glasses and re-read thinking, Dining room? But the tree is in the living room. Why wouldn’t he have just written living room? What’s in there? Oh my God, it’s a dog. Does Nicole have a note, too? 

I cracked her door open and heard a crinkle of paper. I shut her door. She was sound asleep and let’s just say she didn’t like to be woken. This would only happen if necessary. I walked down the hallway and into the living room, and poked my head around the corner into the “forbidden” dining room to see two bikes! I silently screamed. Oh my God! Necessary. Must wake Nicole. I went into her room not even pretending to be quiet. This obviously isn’t word for word, but I’m pretty sure our conversation went a little something like this:

“Nicole wake up,” I climbed on her bed and poked her a few times until she opened her eyes.
“What time is it? Go back to sleep, Erica,” she tried to roll over. Solid effort, but no.
“We got notes that say don’t go in the dining room, so we have to go look!” I started pulling her arms.
“Why, if it says not to?” I don’t understand the question. Because it says not to! Such a goody goody.
“I already went! You have to come see this!” and I was finally able to pull her to her feet.

As we walked down the hallway I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. When we finally made it, she saw the bikes and her eyes lit up just like mine did earlier. Then the good big sister in her came out.

“Ugh okay, Erica. We need to go back to bed. We shouldn’t have looked,” she was still nerding it up.
“Okay fine,” I followed back. I already saw it so who cares? WE GOT BIKES!

I’m pretty sure the next morning our parents asked if we had peeked, but I was too excited to hide it and just admitted it. After that, I think I retired my Christmas snooping days.


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