The festivities have begun. Santa has gotten three letters from Ittybit. All of them slightly different.
In the first she asked for presents for other people. She wanted a pear for me, a truck for daddy and bones for the dogs.
The second letter is largely a mystery since she wrote it with Lori and had is sealed and addressed so that Papa could pop it directly into the mail box (which he did as a dutiful grandpa, right after he affixed a stamp). All we know is that there was something purple, possibly a doll.
With Ama the request was for purple clothes and ice skates. It is now my firm belief that she wants things that the furry woodland creatures in her storybooks are getting under their tree.
Santa is coming tonight. Now I have it on good authority what he's going to be brining, however there is another santa. One with a beard and red suit, who will be trapsing up our stairs bearing a wee gift; and I have no idea what it will be. See my town has a Santa Claus Club that has been in operation since World War II.
The businessmen of the town collect funds all year long for the sole purpose of visiting every single child who resides here and bring them a small gift on Christmas Eve. It all comes from a time when Christmas was harder. When fathers were overseas, fighting a war; when sugar was rationed and money was scarce. When we had an ethic about war that was anything but "go on with business as usual."
This will be the first year Santa actually visits our house (the last two years we were traveling during the holidays, and I worried the Jolly Old Elf would just make her cry). I also worried about need. As is we are fortunate enough to have more than we need. Yet, Santa's visit isn't about that anymore. Most of the men are home, setting up the trees and putting up the lights.
It's about tradition of a town; and it's love of Christmas.