Chistmas Morning

January 6, 2011
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The wind was howling outside the window of my bedroom on the second floor of my house. I was snuggled up tight in my blankets, fighting to stay warm in my chilly house. The excitement of the morning was wearing down my patients and I was trying my hardest to stay in bed a while longer. It was so quiet in the house, every sound being magnified to its greatest. I could hear the drip drop of the leaky faucet in the bathroom near my bedroom and my dad snoring away just down the hall.

Suddenly, I couldn't stay in bed any longer. I scooted out of my bed and padded softly across my carpeted floors toward my bedroom door. I grabbed the cold door knob between my little hands and turned it slowly so it wouldn't make any noise. Then pulling it open just a crack, I peered down the hallway into a pair of brown eyes similar to mine. Excited that I wasn't the only one awake, I threw open my door and galloped down the hallway towards my older sister.

Frantically, she started waving at me to stop running and proceeded to shush me. I halted in my tracks, frozen in a silent cringing position. Then after of couple seconds of remorseful silence, I defrosted from my position, and then tiptoed the rest of the way past my parents' bedroom door. Once I made it to my sister, I was promptly pulled into her room and the door was shut behind me.

Even my older sister could barely hold her excitement inside her. We knew that just a floor beneath us there were luscious presents piled underneath our Christmas tree. We could just smell the fresh smell of wrapping paper and cardboard boxes, mixed with the piny sent of real pine. Her hands gripped my arms as she told me our game plan for the morning. I nodded my agreement enthusiastically, and we slowly pulled her door open. We both jumped two feet off the ground when the door suddenly groaned loudly. We glanced frantically into each others face and then listened closely to the door to our right. The constant snoring of my dad skipped in its rhythm, a snorting cough ringing in our ears. We waited impatiently for the snoring to finally continue in its old rhythm, and then set in for the kill.

Our game plan was speed and stealthiness. If we acted fast, they would never know what hit them. One. Two. Three! We burst out of the room and lunged for the door of our parents' room. Then, we swung it open and sprinted into the room, making a b-line for the bed. We leaped into the air and sailed across the distance, making a landing on the two figures in the bed, our excited war cry filling the room.

They jolted awake and immediately started voicing their complaints. We tugged on their blankets and pleaded earnestly for them to get out of bed. It seemed like forever before Dad finally creaked out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Mom, though, rolled back over and pretended she was going back to sleep. We soon gave up on her and scurried after dad, who we could hear was going down the stairs. Down the hall we sprinted, excited. But just as we hit the top of the spiral staircase, Dad laughed evilly and told us we couldn't come down until mom did.

We growled within our souls and backtracked our way to their room. No more Misses. Nice-girls. We ran back into the room and begged and pleaded and tried pulling her out of bed. Still, all the while she laid there with her eyes tightly closed and a smile breaking across her face. Finally, she fake yawned and stretched and proclaimed that she would get up now. Slowly, she got out of bed and pulled on her robe and then started her inching shuffle across the floor. We followed along behind her, making jabs about how slow she was going.

Finally, after she took her time visiting the bathroom, she made her way down the stairs. My sister and I were like a herd of captured horses chomping at our bits. Until finally, we burst out of our imprisonment and galloped down the stairs.

Halfway down the stairs we stopped and took in the scene below us. All we could see was the brightly lit up Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Still, we could at least see the dark shapes of the furniture, especially the rocking chair; which we knew held our stocking, for we had no fire place to place them above. The left over smell of cookies from the night before still hung in the air, and the fresh smell of wrapping paper was now mixed in with it. Then suddenly, the lights were flashed on by my dad, and we took in the scene again, but this time with a new clearer perspective.

My little heart leaped with excitement as I thudded the rest of the way down the stairs to make sure my eyes were not deceiving me. No. There was indeed two shinny bikes right in the middle of our living room! I danced around and around the living room, giggling away and touching the bikes here and there. They were big girl bikes! No training wheels, and mine was purple! I could hear my mom and dad exclaiming behind me about how the ole' coot had done it now. My older sister was giggling along with me, but had managed to not look as completely childish as her seven year old younger sister.

I danced the rest of the way over to the rocking chair which held two fuzzy stocking brimmed with goodies. They bulged out in their fatness and I could see candy canes sticking out of the top. More goodies were laying on the seat of the rocking chair, in front of their prospective stockings. I grabbed my load and made my way over to the middle of the room so I could go through my loot.

My sister soon joined me on the floor with her stocking and we both dumped our stockings out on the floor. Mini snickers, milky ways, and Hershey candy bars. Candy canes, suckers, pencils, and pretty pens. Little perfumes and small necklaces, all fell in front of me. It was a loot fit for a king.. errr.. I mean.. a queen.

Of course we then had to stuff our little faces with our chocolatey goodies and we were soon chastised by mom and dad, telling us to save room for breakfast. So we sat back and waited for our breakfast to be cooked. Suddenly, my sister noticed that there was the empty plate that once held the cookies for dear old Santa. I glanced at the crumb filled plate and saw to my astonishment that there was writing on it! Santa had left us a note! The note went like this:




Dear Kasandra and Samantha,
Thank you for the yummy cookies and milk! I really enjoyed them! Remember to be good for next year!
Love,
Santa Clause

I couldn't believe it! Santa really does exist! And he had liked the cookies we had left him! Still, as my sister and I stared at the plate in wonder, something looked vaguely familiar about the handwriting...





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