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‘Twas the night before Christmas, and though the hour was meant for sleeping, one curious pair of feet couldn’t help but wander out from their bed and down the long second story hallway.
Andrew wanted to see Santa. Greg and John had tried to tell him that Santa wasn’t real, but he didn’t believe them. He knew Santa was real, who else ate the cookies and milk they left out every year? Well, no matter, he would see Santa soon enough.
With quiet feet, Andrew made his way to the top of the staircase. Already, Andrew could hear voices, hushed whispers.
“Stoppit, you beast! I don’t want the children to wake up…”
That was Daddy, Andrew knew that. Excited, he moved down the stairs quietly.
There was Daddy, by the Christmas tree. Andrew could see the Christmas stocking-themed pajama bottoms and reindeer slippers that Daddy always wore at Christmas time. Daddy wasn’t wearing his glasses, but then again, he never did at night time.
But then Andrew saw him. The bright red suit and cap, the bright white beard, the jolly big belly… it was all Andrew could do to keep from shrieking in delight. It was Santa! Santa was in their living room!
...but what was Daddy doing?
Santa had his arms around Daddy’s waist and his face was pressed against Daddy’s neck while Daddy was giggling quietly.
“You’re beard tickles, stop that!” Daddy whispered.
“You like it.” Santa replied, his voice deep and gruff. It wasn’t how Andrew imagined Santa’s voice sounding. He didn’t even say “Ho ho ho.”
“If you wake the children up…” Daddy chuckled, kissing Santa softly. Andrew blinked, confused. Why wad Daddy kissing Santa?
“Things will get awkward fast.” Santa chuckled, “Unless we call you Mrs. Claus.”
Andrew’s eyes widened. Daddy was Mrs. Claus? He couldn’t wait to tell John and Greg! He giggled happily, making his way up to his bedroom. He needed to hurry up and sleep so Christmas could get there faster!