Why I still believe in Father Christmas…

  • My belly still gets butterflies, when I think back to the first days of Christmas as a child.

I was lucky that my mum had done some kind of deal with Father Christmas and the elves (I never asked), where he came and did our decorations personally. You simply went to bed one night and then when you woke up the next morning, bang – it was Christmas!

I would always walk down the stairs slowly.. I didn’t want to miss a thing. The tinsel on the stairs, the shine of the decorations and the Walla Walla (a Santa with a pulling string) who would be back in his usual spot – waiting to be played with. Year after year.

By the time I  opened the front room door; my heart would be ready to burst! The lights, the tree, the Santas, the nativity (with the Jesus my nephew  liked to steal) and the rubbish decorations I’d made at school. It was Christmas again and anything could happen!

Now; I do the same for my children.

And when I look at them,  I see the magic in their eyes. It rushes over me and I feel like a child again. I  feel my parents’ love pour over me and,  in that moment, I believe! I just believe!!

When it comes to Christmas, I don’t remember the presents..  But I remember the chocolate, the music,  the  laughter,  the fights over roast potatoes and, most of all, I remember the magic…

My mum used to get in debt every year to make Christmas special, but she didn’t have to. I loved her and I loved Christmas anyway. It is our traditions, our love, our stories that make this time of year magical. Not the gifts.

Magic kicks the arse out of presents because the greatest form of magic is love!!

And well, isn’t that what Father Christmas really is? Love?

Merry Christmas everyone xx

 

For my Mummy and Daddy ‘in the sky’. The best Father Christmasses that ever lived!

 

 

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