Over the last few weeks, I've had a whirlwind of visits with friends and relatives from all sides of my family.
But now that Christmas has come to a close, I'm finally free to get back to my routine.
While I was hanging out with my brother, I was reminded of a painfully embarrassing Christmas memory from when I was about seven years old. And since it's the season for sharing, I figured I'd recount the story with you.
So, consider this my gift…
Well, it was Christmas Eve and my brother and I were determined to see Santa Claus.
So, we set a trap.
A cookie trap.
We left some Oreos and milk on top of a counter not far from our room.
Once we heard the adults go to bed, I cracked the door just hair, then tiptoed back to my blankets. Back then, we had a bunk bed. I slept on top, my brother slept on the bottom.
We whispered back and forth, conspiring about what we would do once we caught the bearded, barrel-bellied, mystical magician. Would we ask him about how he fed the reindeer? Where he met the elves? Or, how he got into houses without chimneys (we were in Florida). And of course, the most important question: what gifts did he have for us?
After about half an hour of fantasizing, my little brother fell asleep. I remember because I kept whispering his name and got no response.
Not me though.
Nope.
I must have stayed up till 2 am waiting for the big old fat guy to fall for my cookie trap.
I lay on the edge of my mattress, just waiting. Wondering. Had I been good enough? Or, had that incident with the Halloween candy sealed my fate on the naughty list? If not, what gifts might be in store?
If memory serves me correctly, transformers were the big-ticket item on my list that year.
Optimus Prime to be exact.
So, rather than sugar plums, visions of robots in disguise danced around my head.
Anyway, all I remember is lying there, looking through that crack in the door.
Then...
It happened.
I was mid-air STARING AT THE CARPET!
Wham!
Pain shot down my face and my stomach burned.
I rolled over.
It felt like someone had punched me in the face.
"Josh, what are you doing on the floor?" my brother asked.
I stared up through teary eyes and saw my bunk bed about six feet above me.
I couldn't believe it. I had fallen out of my bed.
But how was that possible?
Had I fallen asleep?
My eyes went wide. Oh no.
"Nothing. Go back to sleep," I whispered.
Once wiped my cheeks and caught my bearings, I crept to the door.
The cookies were still sitting on the table. I could hear my mother and grandmother talking in the kitchen. What were they still doing up? Shouldn't they be in bed by now?
Didn't matter.
I had to get back in bed. If they caught me out of my bunk, I'd be getting a sack of coal for sure. I tip-toed to the ladder and painstakingly climbed up each step. Once I got back to my blankets, I laid as far away from the edge of the mattress as I could (I was basically against the wall).
But I kept my eyes locked on the crack in the door.
The next thing I knew, it was morning.
I woke my brother up and we rushed to the door.
The cookies were gone.
No!
Yet again, the jolly jingler had eluded us.
BUT, a mountain of presents blocked the tree and we quickly rushed the boxes, forgetting all about the red-capped intruder in the process.
Many Christmases have passed since then. But I'll never forget the lesson I learned that day.
Never fall asleep on the edge of a bunk bed!
Anyway, I hope this gave you a laugh.
Merry Christmas
-Josh
PS: Do you have any painfully embarrassing memories from Christmas past? Feel free to share. I love a good story.
-Josh
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