When I think back I’m very lucky to have wonderful memories of childhood Christmas’s.
The weirdest of those memories is every year my mum used to take me to the local butchers where a old man (Eric) who was always sat in the corner of the butchers chatting to everyone coming and going and was incredibly tall, not because I was little, Tall, he was tall tall to deliver my letter to Father Christmas because Eric was one of his Elves.
I was so excited that I knew an Elf and saw him on the regular in the butchers of course.
My mum has passed away 20 odd years ago, I wish I could tell her how important that memory is but it always makes me giggle.
I wonder how/why she picked Eric.
Merry Christmas everyone.
30 comments
Not a magical story but my brother and I had to go to separate church services for a couple of years as my brother kept singing like a rural shepherd and I laughed so much, it got too embarrassing for my parents so Dad took him to one and I went with Mum to the other. My brother still sings in a shepherds accent but I’m able to control myself these days
Im 41 and my brother is 54. My dad still insists we put a mince pie, sherry and carrot out for santa on christmas eve or we wont get any presents.
We tested this when we were about 28 and 41….not a present on christmas morning 😅
We had to make Santa a bacon butty and go and sit upstairs whilst our dad “called” santa to tell him we’d had a change of heart 🤣
My dad was an emergency shift worker all his life (fire and ambulance). When he worked Christmas Eve night he always “met” Santa, who said “Oh I’m glad I ran into you, I forgot to leave these [usually a selection box] for your kids. You can take them home with you, can’t you?”
Oh there are so many things I have done for magic, I genuinely worry about if he will ever trust me again when he realises!
My mum got a bag of manure to put in the garden and pretended to be raging the reindeer had shit everywhere 😂
I was about 6 or 7 when I got wise to the whole Santa thing, but decided I wanted to do a quick test on Christmas Eve. I’d always left a Time Out and a Miller for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph, but I decided that year, it wasn’t fair unless all the reindeers got a treat.
Mum (who’d seen where this was going and whom I definitely get most of my evil from) suggested the reindeer would like their own bowls of All Bran. Dad, not wanting to disappoint his only child, gamely agreed.
On Christmas morning, I was delighted that Santa had had his beer and choccy bar, Rudolph had had his carrot (complete with teeth marks), and all of the reindeer had enjoyed their bowls of All Bran. It didn’t occur to me at the time why dad was a combination of green and grey, refused breakfast and couldn’t look All Bran in the face after that, but…well.
Not fully weird but more sweet
I haven’t seen my baby cousin (5-6 yrs old) in person for a couple years, but we facetimed recently and my dad– who was quite the legend at keeping the magic alive when I was younger– told her that Santa uses magic to extend his arm suuuper long to get down small fireplaces or hands presents to parents through windows in places with no/small fireplaces
Suddenly my cousin cuts in with ‘NO, Santa has a special oil which one drop causes him to shrink down very small so he can get inside houses’
So I have no idea what her parents are telling her 😂
Towards the end of my believing in Santa, I’d made it known that I had my doubts. That year when we went down on Christmas morning, there was a pile of poo* on the floor and I was told Rudolph had been naughty and gone to the toilet inside. In fact I think they had written a note from Santa explaining and apologising? It had me believing for a little while longer, although by the following Christmas I had stopped.
* either my mum or dad went outside, got some mud from the garden, brought it in and shaped it like 💩 🙈😂
My folks would hide this metal lockbox with chains wrapped around it like the one Jacob Marley drags in A Christmas Carol. Inside was a letter written by Marley telling us some ghost of Christmas type stuff that was relevant to our lives at the time, and it was full of those gold and silver chocolate coins. We looked forward to that treasure hunt more than Santa stuff. Legendary.
I have a particular love of Santa’s reindeer… when I was little, my uncle was visiting, I had stayed up too late on Christmas Eve. He sneaked outside and was throwing rocks on the roof, so they sounded like reindeer hooves. I remember that every year.
To keep the magic alive, I used to stand in my hall and shake a load of sleigh bells. My children loved it. They went to bed at 7 pm, so I used to shake the bells at just gone 8 pm. Then I’d say to the children, who, of course, were still awake, go to sleep Santa said that since you aren’t asleep he’ll come back later. It always worked. So that was our Christmas Eve ritual. I was standing in the hallway, ringing sleigh bells, and the children shushing each other because otherwise Santa wouldn’t come.
Not that weird but nice – my mum used to hang onto a few presents and dole them out in the days after Christmas, telling us Father Christmas must have dropped this in the garden or knocked it under the sofa or whatever and she’d just found it. It was a nice way of reducing post-christmas ennui.
I was insistent that Santa drink milk so he didn’t get drunk. Santa would always suggest brandy or sherry or anything that wasn’t milk as Santa despised milk. Santa endured out of the goodness of her heart and when I got wise, I still insisted on milk but for evil purposes.
We got the stockings out the loft and I overhead my mum saying how my brothers and sisters stocking had loads of rubbish inside them (dust, spiderwebs, general crap from being in the loft). Mine (having been made 7 years later due to me being an accident) was slightly bigger so was clean.
I wrote a letter to father Christmas letting him know and to make sure he still filled their stockings.
My mum had cleaned them up but wrote me a letter back saying thank you for letting him know, he had left some extra presents outside our stockings for everyone.
I reckon that got me at least an extra year of believing out of that letter.
We had this little wise man ornament and my mum used to always make it turn north and said it did it by itself. I used to turn it around and it would always end up back “north” (i dont think either of us knew where north was honestly i think she just picked a direction and stuck with it).
Anyway I had my suspicions it was my mum so one day as we were leaving I ran back indoors and turned it around and said triumphantly to my mum that would be the end of it.
Well when we got back home I came in and was FLOORED when it was facing the other way again.
A few years later she admitted to texting next door and asking them to come in with their key and turn it around..
My dad would always put a little gift for everyone in the branches of the Christmas tree after we’d gone to bed Xmas night, and we had that Boxing Day afternoon, and he said they were from the tree to say thank you for letting it be our tree and share our Christmas that year.
Idk if this is common or not, i somehow ended up with an entire friendship group whose parents never really did the whole ‘Santa’ thing, but mine, very much did.
One year (I must’ve been around 7/8) I remember waking up to ‘Santa’ sneaking into my room with my stocking, big white bushy beard, full costume, the lot. I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t forfeit my gifts, Santa placed the stocking on the end of my bed, gave me a kiss on the forehead and snuck out again.
I was absolutely thrilled by the whole thing, wouldn’t stop talking about it the next day, and it’s always stuck with me.
Not all that long ago (I’m 29 now) I raised the night in question with my parents, because I know it’s totally plausible that kid me just dreamt the whole thing up.. Nope, turns out my dad used to dress up in full costume to sneak our stockings in every Christmas, just Incase one of us caught them in the act, even showed me some old pictures of dad in the costume!
Super sweet, and I’m forever grateful I was raised in a ‘Santa is real’ household.
Edited to add, this aparently backfired, I used to try super hard to wait up and catch him again after that, which I don’t remember.. but luckily kid me never managed a full all-nighter and somehow I never caught my dad again!
My dad covering the living room floor with snow (white flour 😅) and walking around in his massive work boots to leave “Santa footprints” that led from the fireplace to the Christmas tree and back again. I remember welling up with tears actually, it was so magical and my dad hated Christmas but he always went above and beyond for us. I’m crying now 😆😆😆😆
My daughter is 12. When we had the talk about the tooth fairy she said I had ruined the childhood magic by telling hr the truth. So we have an agreement that any other fictional mythical beings will never have the same conversation. So now I really have no idea if she believes or doesn’t. And I won’t be asking.
Not my parents, but their friends. We always went to midnight mass when I was a kid, I loved getting to stay up. One Christmas Eve, we were walking home from the church, I was about 7 and fully believed in Santa. Just as a plane was flying over, my mums friend had a set of sleigh bells in her pocket and started jingling them, making them louder as the plane flew over and softer as it got further away. I was so delighted to have really seen Santa flying over. Such a magical memory
Not entirely applicable, but will share nonetheless;
I work seasonally as one of Santa’s elves at a holiday destination. This year, I had a couple kids who were *just* on the brink of not believing anymore. Luckily, I had gone out of my way to learn a menagerie of magic tricks – real obscure ones with ropes and knots. Told them i was a reindeer handler elf, and that magic was how we freed up the reindeer when they get tangled in their reins. I tie the rope around the kids hands, do some sleight of hand, and it magically unties without ever being touched. They were floored, and I’m 90% sure that’s bought their parents another year of believing.
My dad used to leave a mess with soot and footprints all around the chimney and spend the first part of the morning effing and blinding about the mess Santa had made. I think I was too interested in the presents to realise that Santa and my dad had the same size feet.
My parents randomly one year suggested that maybe Rudolph would like some Rice Krispies instead of carrots? So that’s what Rudolph got. He made a right mess eating them but eat them he did.
Anyway they were just really fed up of gnawing on whole raw carrots to make it look like Rudolph had eaten them. Santa always got biscuits rather than mince pies too; neither of them are massive mince pie fans.
I’m 29. I still get an advent calendar from both parents and I still get presents “from Father Christmas”
I don’t know if it’s weird, but when I was at the age where I started doubting Santa, my mum put a tuft of cotton wool on the inside of the fireplace so it looked like some fur came off his boot when he went down the chimney. I was CONVINCED and I was buzzing.
Two years later, and I still remember that fondly as a 38 year-old!
My old man put soot fingerprints on the wall and was RAGING at Santa one Christmas morning because of it.
Another one was when it was snowing on Christmas morning, he went outside and ‘found a bag of presents’ that Santa had dropped in the snow.
All added to the magic.
My mum used to write a note from Santa to us to thank us for the milk and biscuits we’d left out for him. She sprinkle it with glitter and say that it was star dust.
It doesn’t sound like much now when you can get buckets of glitter anywhere, but back then it was harder to source glitter, especially in a small town.
It felt so special and so real, that Santa would write to us and leave some stardust behind.
I once told a small boy on a train that I was a spy for Father Christmas, reporting back who’s been good or naughty. He was amazed that I knew his name(his dad had been saying it a lot). I said the man next to him, a stranger, wasn’t getting anything as he’d been naughty, which made the stranger and his wife chuckle. I mentioned the boy’s sister’s name too, their grandad and dad welcomed the distraction as the boy asked me questions as he’d been a bit annoying before but soon behaved. I hope George and Freya got everything they hoped for, that year and afterwards.
My mum was heavily into Christmas! In June every year she handmade the pudding and wrapped it up to mature. By October the turkey would be ordered (and named Oswald)
Beginning of December she would make her special cake which was a full time bit of work!
Then the decorating, only after the 15th which was her birthday. A real tree and baubles she’d had since 1975. They were always wrapped carefully.
Our sideboard was her canvas every year. A huge basket of fruit, candy, nuts, chocolate….
The smell on Christmas morning of the stuffing. The stockings with a tangerine, chocolate coins, and nuts representing faith, hope and charity. It never differed. I never thought it would.
My mum died in January 2003 after a short but devastating diagnosis of Motor Neurone Disease.
Christmas has never felt the same. I miss her everyday. She’s missed my graduation and my wedding. All the things she was waiting to experience. Love you mum.
My 21yr old son was reminiscing yesterday and remembered that we used to sprinkle white glitter around boots to make the footprints. He said it was one of his favourite parts of Christmas when he was little.
He literally said this morning that he thinks we should start putting milk and a mince pie out again. With a carrot for Rudolph. So I’m going to try to remember that for next year! He’s so sentimental. 😁