A child’s favorite holiday is Christmas, children wait anxiously for that morning filled with gifts they worked all year to receive. I was one of those kids that couldn’t sleep the night before, searched everywhere in the house to find the hidden treasure, and thought if I baked big chocolaty cookies for Santa, I would be award with more presents. But one year, Santa really screwed me over.

The night before, my sister put a limit on how early I could drag her out of bed. My little brother and I awoke at six and left to wait until eight. Forget eight; we woke her up at seven. Strategically, I marched to my sister’s room while my brother undertook the parents. After grumbles and firing of pillows, my brother and I won the good fight; slowly we all gathered around the tree.

For some reason, the gift opening process takes forever at my house. Everyone else takes their time; unwrapping each gift with care and ease. Why? The paper does not have feelings; rip it off! Then there is the aww-ing and ooo-ing while we watch one person open their gifts.

Finally, it was my turn; I torn through the paper and crafted bow with lighting fast speed. “Wow! Harry Potter legos.” “Ooo, more legos,” I exclaimed. “More legos.” “We must have all the Harry Potter lego sets,” I said with confusion. “Is there anything else?” “Did Santa give me anything else,” I questioned desperately.

My brother was ecstatic; it was his best Christmas, everything a little boy could want; boxes and boxes of legos. But being a girl, boxes of legos did not make me happy. I loved Harry Potter, but not that much. Did Santa confuse me with my brother or was this all I deserved?
I had never felt so disappointed in my life. I looked forward to Christmas all year, all year keeping off the naughty list and Harry Potter legos are my reward. Ever since that disheartening Christmas, Santa and I have never been the same.