Santa Came Early - and Read My Blog?

Christmas Eve morning found me at the gym, attempting to burn as many calories as humanly possible in sixty minutes (it wasn’t nearly enough to cancel out my caloric intake over the next two days, but that’s not what this is about). As I pulled into the garage right before 9 AM, I saw four pairs of legs hopping up and down on the landing (the fifth pair, belonging to Kirsten, was still in bed). Emma was the self-designated bearer-of-exciting-news.

“Mom! Santa came early!! Santa came early!!” The kids, all talking at once, anxiously pulled me into the living room to see the huge pile of gifts that had been deposited on our doorstep shortly before my return home. The accompanying note said:
To:  The Angerbauers  Love: Santa
P.S. Sorry that I had to deliver so early – with all the good boys and girls I had to get a headstart!

I stared in disbelief. Santa hadn’t consulted with me and Jeff (as is his usual custom), so we were completely baffled. The kids had already arranged the gifts into piles according to recipient, and they spent the better part of that day speculating – i.e. shaking the gifts, weighing them, holding them to their ears and the like. I spent the better part of that day reminding the kids that the gifts were to stay firmly wrapped – no “accidentally” torn edges or missing pieces of tape allowed.

And I did some speculating of my own.

Fast forward through a fun, fun Christmas Eve with my sister Rachelle, where we had fondue for dinner (a new, highly successful endeavor), sang carols, read the Christmas Story, had our Christ Cake (a tradition where we each give a personal gift to Christ for the upcoming year), and watched  It’s a Wonderful Life.

There was an extra air of anticipation on Christmas morning, especially since Santa had delighted the kids by somehow finding time during the night to deliver stocking stuffers and a few more gifts. It didn’t take long to begin opening Santa gifts.  It didn’t take much longer for me to begin crying.

It’s a given that Santa is all-knowing, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when each gift being opened was perfectly suited for the child opening it. But I was surprised - it was uncanny. And then, as Seth opened a tennis racquet and bag of tennis balls, it hit me:

Santa had read my blog!

As I watched each present being opened, I realized that I could link that gift to a specific phrase from two different blog posts: my Christmas blog, and a post entitled Expectations from my regular family blog. I couldn’t stop crying. Here’s a sampling of what unfolded (note that this is not a comprehensive list of either gifts or the info on my blog):

I wrote about Kirsten: she is unstoppable in the kitchen, she asks for a Jamba Juice every time we drive by the store
Santa gave Kirsten: a Cookbook, a Jamba Juice gift card

I wrote about Rob: he loves to read, he loved participating in an Air Soft war at a scout camp
Santa gave Rob: a Book, an Air Soft gun

I wrote about Seth: he loves soccer, he has expressed an interest in tennis
Santa gave Seth : a Soccer Ball, a Tennis Racquet & Balls

I wrote about Emma: she requested a puppy in her Santa letter, Caleb always steals her Webkins
Santa gave Emma: a Giant, Cuddly Stuffed Puppy, an adorable WebKin pony

I wrote about Caleb: he always steals Emma’s WebKins, he loves trucks
Santa gave Caleb: a dinosaur WebKin of his very own, a Giant Truck, complete with its own crane


Throughout the rest of the day, while enjoying a traditional turkey dinner & Kirsten’s Chocolate Celebration Cake – truly a thing of wonder – I periodically fought back tears.

 

Yes, I have speculated.  Who reads my blog?  Is it a regular reader (there are relatively few), or someone who received my Christmas blog & then searched around on my regular blog?  I'll never know.

So this will have to do.

A huge shout-out to our favorite Santa:  We hope, hope, hope that you read this post- it's our only way of thanking you and telling you how much magic, joy, and wonder you brought into our home this Christmas.

We will never forget.
Dang.  I've started crying again.