Christmas as a child for me was one of the best times, it was always very special around our house, there were games to be played, gifts under the tree, the hot fire blazing and just a wonderful warm feeling of “home”. Jenn and I would write letters to Santa and throw them into the fireplace and watch them burn as the flames turned beautiful colors and the ashes shot up the chimney into the night sky towards the north pole, it was pure magic. We would leave the cookies and milk for the big man to eat, always in the kitchen on the table, he was always very messy, leaving crumbs and such. But that’s was OK, he was in a hurry. I remember peaking out my window after I went to bed. My window was on the 2nd floor of our house and it over looked all the houses and I had an amazing view of Cratloe Woods which was on a huge hillside off in the distance. I really had one of the best views from my bedroom, it was prime Santa viewing too. Getting to sleep was always difficult, full of excitement and wonder.

In that excitement and wonder one Christmas eve night I had this wonderful idea of putting my stocking on my bedroom door handle, and I would leave the door cracked. This way Santa would have to come to my door to fill my stocking and I would see him, genius right? But what if I was asleep? This had to be fixed, there was no way I could stay awake, the rule goes, “he knows if you are sleeping and he knows if your awake” So I would need to be sleeping, but I needed to be quickly awoken to catch him. So I stood up on top of my bed and reached up to the top of my bedroom door and strategically placed all the actions figures I could find along the top. He-Man, Skeletor, Luke, Darth, Chewbacca, and a Transformer, ohh yes, this was perfect, my band of brothers, my elite ambush team of heroes. Santa would be captured by the same toys he had left from Christmas past, it was perfect. He would open the door and be clobbered by my Merry Men. He would never see it coming.

The next morning my stocking was gone and my men scattered on the floor. I couldn’t believe it! It did not work. My stocking was down stairs and my toys all under the tree. My plan had failed. Santa had come and gone, and I failed to see him in person. My mother on the other hand had a few words for me, it would seem she moved my stocking before she went to bed for the night and wanted to check on me, my poor mother fell victim to my trap, and was belted and clobbered by my elite force. She was not happy about it. Santa escaped, and it is probably just as well, for if he had taken the beating she had, I would not have gotten all I got that year. So kids, its not worth it, just let the big guy do his job. Merry Christmas.