I've been truly blessed with several Christmas memories throughout the years. There have been many Christmases and many memories. However, my favorite Christmas memory occurred when I was seven years old. Although today's typical seven years old child do not believe in Santa , during my childhood, my community of seven year old friends did. Not only did we believe in him, we could not waiting until Christmas morning to get the one toy, fruit, nuts and candy that he always brought us.
Each Christmas morning, my parents would enthusiastically get my brothers, sisters and me out of bed (we were already awake with anxiety and anticipation), take us to the living room and point out who gets what. We dared not open our eyes or got up on our own for fear that if Santa saw us looking as he distributed the gifts, he would spit in our eyes. They would marvel at the number of "Oh Golly" they heard as each of us saw our one $1.99 unwrapped gift. They then gave themselves Invisible pats on the back for a job well done. But my seven years old Christmas was different. It made me realized that Santa was really real. Anyone could come down the chimney and deposit toys, nuts and candy under a Christmas tree. But only Santa could be responsible for what took place.
That Christmas morning, Dad was the only parent who was involved in our traditional routine. After all of the "Oh Golly' and his invisible pat on the back, he announced "Now I want y'all to come and see what else Santa brought you". He led my 5 brothers, 2 sisters and me to their bed where my mom was lying, pulled back the cover and said "Santa Claus brought you a baby brother." There was much excitement in the room. It was like "Santa, you really did it this time!" For the next 2 years, there was nothing anyone could say to convince me that Santa fail to exist. My logic told me that since there was no child in our house when we went to bed, Santa had to place the baby in Mom and Dad's bed. He was not born during the early morning hours on Christmas day; but instead, brought down the chimney along with the toys, fruit, nuts and candy from the North Pole.
Now I am much, much older, far wiser, know about midwives, have lost both my mother and father and do not see eye-to-eye with my brother. However, deep down in my heart, I know that my favorite Christmas memory proves that the song with the lyrics "Mommy is Santa, Daddy is Claus" is true and that Santa Claus actually did bring me my baby brother.
— Susie Magwood-Thomas