
One night last year nearing Christmas, Meg & I were watching stars out of her bedroom window. Suddenly she whispered in that deafening way kids can "Daddy look, its Santa!" Sure enough, in the sky was a red and yellow flashing light, slowly flying above the rooftops.
"He's coming!", Meg shouted this time.
It was still a week or two before Christmas Day so I thought I'd capitalise a bit on the Santa Claus legend. I said that it was indeed Santa but;
"He's only doing a 'fly past'. Each night he checks up on each child to see if they've been good or not. You have to tell him that you've been good" I told her.
So, each night between then and Christmas day she would wait at her window until she saw a plane fly past. "Santa, I've been good as gold today" She would whisper to the sky.
Meg would have been 3 years old then. She still had some remnants of baby in her.
I'd forgotten all about Santa's pre Christmas audits until last night. More or less a year later. It was about six o'clock and Meg was the lounge window. I could hear her whispering something, but couldn't hear clearly. I sneaked up behind her and stood with her for a bit. She whispered it again, this time I heard.
"I've been good today Santa"
Sure enough, the lights of an airplane were blinking in the distance. It took me aback a little that

No comments:
Post a Comment