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Stockings were lined up along the fireplace, each with delicately stitched initials marking the intended recipient of the knickknacks Alice had filled to the brim with love. Out on the kitchen table was a large glass of milk for Santa, a platter with homemade sugar cookies that the twins helped their Grandma decorate.
While everybody was busy dreaming of sugar plums and fairies, FP snuck up from the basement dressed in a red suit with the bag of presents that were carefully labelled and hidden for months. The little ones still thought it was Santa’s doing, but their own kids, the ones who were adults knew that Alice had her own lists that she checked twice.
Every year Jughead grumbled about the Great Santa Conspiracy.
“The amount of resources people spend tricking kids into believing in an old fat man with a beard…” he shook his head disbelievingly. “The worst part is that is works!”
Jellybean, fresh from College, and a very pregnant Betty exchange an eye roll.
“Don’t get him started on the NORAD Santa Tracker…” Jellybean whispered.
Thankfully, he never got to it because Polly snapped and told him to shove it.
“This is likely going to be Dagwood and Juniper’s last truly magical Christmas and I will not have your cynicism ruin it for them.”
“Jug, if it makes you feel any better,” Betty said with a twinkle in her eye, “when they find out the truth about Santa, it will teach them to not blindly trust adults.”
“You know, that does help,” he replied.
Jellybean glanced between the two of them and sighed. “You guys are so weird.”
Polly was right. The twins were getting older and they wouldn’t believe in elves for very much longer. They were roughly around the age Betty was when she tried to catch Santa under the tree.
“How do I look?” FP modeled his new outfit.
FP’s beard was more salt than pepper, but it wasn’t quite long or grizzled enough to play a very convincing Santa.
“One sec…” Alice reached into a bag and pulled out a white beard and gently slipped the elastic strap over his head before finishing off the look with the signature hat. “Much better. Look at you, Santa.”
FP sat down on a nearby chair and pulled her into his lap. “Tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” he grinned behind the mountain of synthetic hair.
“What could I possibly want?” Alice wrapped her arms instinctively around his neck. “I already have everything.”