Keeping faith in Santa ~ December 28, 1989

David Heiller

Santa Claus came to our house on Sunday night, enroute to the homes of all good children. He left Shark Bites and oranges, Teddy Grahams and handkerchiefs, socks and scarves, and a book on the Minnesota Twins. I always knew Santa was a Twins fan.

Oh yes, he left toys too. A moose and elephant for Noah, and magic wand, crown, and cape for Princess Mollie.

Children have abiding faith in Santa Claus but on Christmas Eve, it did seem to falter a bit. We were sleeping downstairs on the hide-bed, with company upstairs. I put a log in the woodstove at about 2 a.m., the wood banging into the fire box with a thud. Noah must have heard that. He came padding down the steps and crawled into bed, pretending to nestle in. But soon I felt him move, and I cracked an eye to see him on his elbows, looking at the packages under the dark tree. New packages, ones he hadn’t seen there before. He looked wide-eyed at the wall where the stockings had been hung by the woodstove with care. No socks! His eyes ran to the kitchen table, where he spotted the now-bulging socks. He smiled and started to get up, heading in that direction.

Noah and Malika, Christmas 1989.

“Up to bed,” I said. He padded back upstairs, and didn’t make another sound.

Mollie followed an hour and a half later. Kids must have the same Christmas Eve instincts: insomnia and doubt followed by born-again faith and sweet dreams of Santa. Her routine echoed Noah’s, She faked a snuggle, then rose up to case the joint out, like a thief in the night, eyes running over all the goods. She tossed and turned between Cindy and me until I finally carried her back to her bed. She fell instantly asleep.

All doubt had left the next morning. The kids KNEW Santa had made his appointed rounds. When Noah was opening his big box, Cindy asked him what was in it. “A moose,” he answered with utter confidence. Santa smiled. So did Bob Paulson and all of Santa’s other helpers.

A Santa visit in 1985. 
Noah always asked Santa for wildlife. 

Noah then announced that he had heard Santa in the night. “I just heard footsteps,” he said. “Where?” I asked.

“Because you didn’t go next to the stockings,” Noah said. Logic doesn’t matter much to a six-year-old when it comes to Santa.

Logic doesn’t hold a candle to other rhymes or reasons this time of year. We had opened presents on Saturday night too, with Grandma Olson and Aunt Nancy, Uncle Randy and Aunt Therese, and Baby Grace. On Sunday morning, Noah joined us on the hide-a-bed, and said, “You know what the best present I got for Christmas was?”

“Your Indian village?” Cindy guessed.

No, the best present was having Christmas with Grandma and Nancy and Randy and Therese,” Noah said.

“And Grace,” I added.

“And Grace,” Noah said.

We didn’t rehearse that answer, honest Grandma.

I guess kids know the true meaning of Christmas after all.