Every kid and adult loves the holidays because they get a break, gifts, and everything they could ever ask for. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, every year I look forward to it. When I was younger I would stay up all night waiting for Santa, and then wake up bright and early to open my gifts. Santa would leave me tons of presents and I’d eagerly wait with my brother until seven A.M. to wake up our parents. As we get older the time gets later, now I don’t even want to wake up when they’re all trying to get me up. The second it hits seven, we would run out and drag them down the stairs. My mom would make us patiently wait at the top of the stairs for what felt like years. My dad would grab my little sister and my mom would yell, “It’s time!” That’s when my brother and I would sprint down the stairs and see all of our presents waiting to be opened. But the Christmas of 2014 was different from our other traditional years. My brother was four, my sister was two, and I was six. As we went to run down the stairs my brother stopped at the top of the stairs. This was very unusual because he’s always been obsessed with getting things, especially gifts. So it was very unlike him to be running the opposite way from a present or any kind of wrapping paper. I turned around to see what he was doing. We asked him to come down because Santa came last night. He wouldn’t budge at all, so my dad went up to grab him. All of a sudden he started screaming and kicking his legs because he was scared. Scared of what though? It’s Christmas morning, there’s absolutely nothing to even be scared about. When my dad put him down he ran behind a pole and hid like a cartoon character. I thought it was funny but my sister didn’t at all, considering she was only two and had no idea what was going on. We asked my brother what he was doing and what was wrong. It took a few tries to get it out of him, but he eventually told us that he thought Santa was still hiding in the house. It was so funny, and such an irrational fear because what could Santa be doing in our house? 

We asked him, “What do you mean he’s still in the house? 

Santa left the presents, he’s not here anymore.” My brother disagreed and continued to hide in the corner. We had to figure out a way to convince him Santa was gone. After what felt like an eternity, we came up with an idea. My dad showed my brother the plate of cookies and showed him that Santa only took one bite. If Santa were still hiding somewhere here then he would’ve eaten all of them, because he has no self-control. It took some convincing but my brother finally gave in and realized he had the most ridiculous fear. He walked around the house checking to make sure no Santa was hiding in the shadows, or whatever he thought. We finally ran over to our presents and opened them one by one each kid at a time. Afterwards, we had our cinnamon rolls and watched A Christmas Story. Besides my brother being afraid of “Evil Santa,” I would say it was a fun and successful Christmas in the end.