Up from the basement he arose quietly, bearing gifts that were labeled for the Buntjer family.
His red suit sagged where a round belly should be, his white beard was bushy and his spectacles clean.
He boasted “Ho, Ho, Ho” as he walked through the kitchen, sending kids flailing in all different directions.
There was Reece who was anxious to greet the big guy — a John Deere combine he hoped Santa would buy.
Alayna grew wide-eyed and leaped into my arms. She buried her face and whimpered in alarm.
“It’s Santa,” I said. “You can’t be afraid.”
I tried to peel her away, for photos I must take; but she wouldn’t let go … oh, for goodness sake!
Niece Katie was timid, just really not sure. Then she sided with Alayna and hid behind her.
Adrianna was brave as she reached Santa’s lap. She looked in his eyes as he fumbled in his sack. Her request was a present — it was that easy — and a fluffy snowman would do … nothing too cheesy.
Emily accepted her snowman just fine, there was no whimper, no screamin’ or cryin’.
That was for Kiera, the 16-month-old. She screamed and she hollered, she kicked and she flailed. This big man in red could not hold her, she wailed.
And just as she had everyone’s attention, there sat the Brod-man … he must be mentioned.
For in my photos of that Christmas Eve Day, as Kiera was screaming our little Brody was gleaming.
He wanted to sit with this Santa in red, so eager his hand rose above his head.
“Pick me, Santa, pick me,” this 13-month-old thought. “I’m a brave little boy and I’m loved a whole lot. What’s in your sack, Santa, what have you brought?”
So Brody was placed in big Santa’s lap. He stared at the beard, the glasses and cap.
As he accepted his snowman with nary a smile, his daddy was awestruck by his brave little child.
Santa’s sack was now empty, he must be going. Lots of work was awaiting, at least it wasn’t snowing!
With a wave and a “See ya,” our Santa disappeared … no signs of a sleigh or a herd of reindeer.
That didn’t matter, the kids didn’t see — they were too busy, their eyes filled with glee.
Later that night, as stars brightly shone, the families packed up and they headed for home.
“But wait,” nephew Reece said before he could leave. He needed some reindeer poop to give Santa a treat.
He went to Aunt Connie’s platter of candy and plucked off a dropping to place in a baggie.
Santa can have his milk and his cookies, but reindeer poop, well, that’s one-of-a-kind. Just ask this little Buntjer boy, he knows the big guy won’t mind.
(Dear readers, I apologize for the cheesy creativity. I hope you all had a memorable Christmas!)