Sam remembers being ecstatic on Christmas mornings throughout his youth since he used to wake up to a present under their Christmas tree.
Make a wish list and store it under the Christmas tree, his father used to advise. Santa would undoubtedly give you all of your wishes.
He was almost certain that Santa Claus existed.
Until one night before Christmas morning, when he suspected something strange and chose to stay awake the entire night.
His father was aware of this and used it to his advantage.
While Sam was awake, he didn't keep the present beneath the tree the entire time.
Sam was constantly checking to see if Santa had arrived. He hadn't done so. He was certain that Santa was a made-up character. His father was just posing as Santa Claus.
He dozed off and awoke to another present.
But this time he was certain,it was his father this time, not the Santa who visits from the North Pole every year.
The current year is 2018.
He was 17 years old at the time.
It's two days until Christmas.
Sam: laughing
Maybe Santa won't come this year,Dad.
His father: joking around
Yes, since you didn't keep track of your wishes.)
Sam laughing
Yesterday,When his father returned home from work, he told him:
Okay, now that you're a big boy, maybe Santa won't come.
Sam: Dad, even if he comes the name sticker will be from the local gift shops only.
His father:馃槀
Sam's mother and father go for work, and when they return, his father says:
shouting
"See, kid, I ran into Santa outdoors."Handing over a gift box to him.
Sam: Don't worry about it; I'll open it tomorrow.
His mother: The boy has got a lot of patience.
MORNING OF CHRISTMAS:
He finally open his gifts, which still have the local name sticker on them.
He unwraps it to find a box inside it.
Filled with different things.
Too many things.
Sam ponders in deep thoughts alone in his room of how much his parents try soo hard to keep his dreams intact.
(**My dad knows I'm 17 and that I'm aware Santa isn't real, still, the way he tries to surprise me and make me happy.
Is Santa Claus real?
For me, he has always been.
Albeit not in the same form my childhood self had imagined.
But still. In the form of a real person.
I call him my dad!**.)
