![]() One year, it was a toy “Star Wars” Millennium Falcon that my pet poodle later desecrated by lifting his leg and marking it as his own. On Christmas mornings in those days, my big brother and I always started under the tree with the “big” gifts from Santa. (Yes, my wife and daughters are grateful I’m not still wearing them – although I’d like to.) When Santa comes to our house, it’s as if I’m reliving my own Christmas mornings as a young nerdlet with an acute case of bed head and Spider-Man Underoos. ![]() For us, Santa represents the very real fun of Christmas.Īlthough our girls are well into their eye-rolling teen years, there is still something magical about seeing their shining faces as they bound toward the tree on Christmas morning – even if we have to wait for them to get their hair “selfie-ready." Seriously, though, our family has always operated with the understanding that Santa Claus exists.
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