My one memory of Christmas was when I was around eight years old. I
knew for a long time already that Mom & Dad were Santas, so . . .
but being the youngest I knew I had to keep pretending I believed in
Santa, so I didn't ruin it for everyone else. I remember feeling a lot
of pressure. I got a life-size doll that year, a lot like the one I
have now. That doll meant a lot to me. That's why Dad replaced it for
me while we lived in Preston. I believe this pressure of "believing" is
the reason I told all my children when they asked about Santa; that
their Santa was their Dad; I also really believed and still do believe
in being HONEST with my children, even about make-believe.
I know this
part is not about the prompt but I can't resist. When Raymond was about
3 and Angela 1, Dad worked at Harmon's Grocery Store in Salt Lake. He
had to work the night of our ward Christmas party, so I took the kids by
myself. Santa was there, of course, and Raymond got on his lap and
whispered in his ear, "I know it's you, Dad, but I won't tell.":)
Angela was afraid of the Santa. She wouldn't get near him. It was not
Dad, in case any of you wondered.:)
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