Excellent My daughter still believed in Santa, but now what? Santa Knows Best by Janilou Holiday Story contest entry I need help, here! Dedicated to all the big kids out there.

Category:  General Non-Fiction   Posted:  December 4, 2008      Views: 440

ABOUT JANILOU  Janilou is a woman who loves God. Much of her work reflects her faith. Christian music often inspires her work. She is honored to have been named FanStory's Short Works Author Of The Year, in 2007 and 2008, and thanks all of her wonderful fans for the ranking. Their comments and support are her inspiration! She writes whenever her dairy goats allow her to escape the milking barn. If she's not on FanStory, you might find her on Facebook, using her real name, Jan Anderegg. Quote Of The Day: "Shall we make a new rule of life from tonight: Always try to be a little kinder than is necessary." Sir James M Barrie She has won several contests. The contest submission Death By Taxes was the first place winner in the contest Holiday Story. Boys Will Be Boys was the first place winner in the contest Holiday Story. Twas The Night Before - Say What? was the first place winner in the contest Holiday Story. She is a top ranked author and is currently holding the #41 position. The Seal of Quality committee has rewarded her with 2 seals. Portfolio | Become A Fan She bounced into the room. "Hi, Mom. Yum! Cookies! Can I have one? When are we going to put the tree up? It's almost Jesus' birthday!" I handed her a cookie. "Sure, here you are." Giving my strawberry-blonde, eight-year-old a big hug, I added, "Soon, very soon. We'll go down to Beth's and pick a tree out tomorrow."  Her eyes shone. "I'm going to bake some cookies for Santa this year." She still believed in that jolly, old elf with the red suit and black boots, much to everyone in our family's delight. I smiled. "Don't you think it's about time you wrote Santa a letter? So he knows what you want for Christmas?" Shaking her head, she said. "Nope." I grinned, but the slightest trickle of fear shot down my spine like an electric eel on a water slide. "What you do mean, nope?" Grabbing a cookie from the plate on the counter, she explained, "No need. He knows what I want." I froze. "Yes, but Santa has so many new children to remember this Christmas, with all the new babies being born and all. Don't you think you should send him a little reminder?" She pursed her lips, and spoke slowly, so I'd understand. "Mom, he knows. Every year for eight years, he's brought me exactly what I wanted." She patted me on the back and skipped out of the room. "What's that?" I called after her. "What do you want?" "Don't worry, Mom! Santa knows!" Don't worry? Following her into the living room, I tried again, pressing my case a little harder this time. "Well, you know, Santa might really appreciate some help this year. He's getting older." She grinned and shook her head. "It's okay, Mom. He'll get it right. He's magic." Seeing the look of tolerance on her face, I imagined I could read her mind. Yep, Mom's really losing it this year. Just as well she's not the one trying to remember what to get me for Christmas. Now here we sat, Christmas Eve a mere two weeks away, and not a whisper of a hint had escaped that child's lips. No squeals of delight when a commercial came on television with the latest doll or amazing toy creation. No longing looks on our trip to the Mall. Nada. Nothing. Zippo. Zilch. I admired her faith in the fat man, but what could I do? Let my lack of telepathy destroy her belief in Santa come Christmas morning, when the right presents didn't appear in her carefully hung stocking? I shuddered at the thought of her crestfallen face as she realized the bitter truth. The time had come. Marching into her room, I sat on the edge of her bed and sighed. She looked up from her beanbag where she sat reading Little House In The Big Woods. "Whatcha doing, Mom?" My face turned as red as a Christmas pudding right out of the oven. I opened my mouth to speak. "There's something I have to tell you."  Wide-eyed, she looked at me. "What?"  As I stared into her pretty, ocean-blue eyes, it occurred to me. There was another way. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner? "Never mind," I said, giving her a kiss on her forehead. Throwing her arm around my neck, she kissed my cheek, and went back to her book. Sneaking into my study, I locked the door. Sitting at my desk, pen in hand, I stared at the blank page. What should I say? How could I explain the reality of this situation? My hand shook as my pen touched the page. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dear Santa, I know I haven't written for years, but I could really use some help here. . . . Recognized Share your own writing! - Information on our membership for writers. Author Notes Hope you enjoyed this in the true spirit of Christmas. If anyone has any good suggestions as to what I should do if Santa doesn't answer in time, let me know! :-) Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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