The Santa Bounce

Why Adam and I were trying to convince our sisters, Deirdre and Marcy, Santa Claus was in the area, checking to see if they were being “naughty or nice,” I haven’t a clue. What I do know is the jolly old Elf was nowhere to be found, so I stepped in.

Knowing where Dad kept his Santa’s Helper suit he’d wear on occasion to the VFW Christmas Party, I put it on. Then I climbed up on the roof and waited for Adam to get the girls to come outside and see the “truth” for themselves.

That’s where things seemed to slip – or rather – I slipped.

All I was supposed to do was run along the top beam of the house towards the chimney and duck down out of sight. But no, instead I took two or three steps, and then fell off the roof.

I hit the cement patio with a smack I thought could be heard for miles around.

There was no time to lay there and nurse my injuries though. Instead I jumped up, dashed into the house, stripped off the suit, stuffed it in Dad’s dresser and raced outside to join Adam and the girls. Deirdre and Marcy were so excited — they had jus’ witnessed Santa disappearing in the “twinkling of an eye.”

They were so excited they never noticed I was out of breath from knocking the wind out of myself, or the fact that I was trying not to show I had banged up my left hip and elbow in the fall. Adam didn’t even realized it until after I told him what had happened.

He jus’ laughed when I told him, “This Santa Claus’ helper doesn’t bounce.”