It happens every year. I forget to make Christmas Eve magical and special and a time of wonder. I mean to but somehow it never comes off. The day starts out alright, I clean and bake for Christmas dinner. The children play and plan. They ask over and over, " how many hours before Santa comes"? The house is filled with the aroma of cranberry bread and we play some carols. We keep the Christmas tree lit all day. As soon as darkness falls, the children begin asking when they might go to bed (oh, words to treasure!). I even spend the $4.95 to buy four phone calls to Santa's sleigh so we can check on his progress. That guarantees that magical quality, right?

The phone calls consist of a recorded message approximately a minute long and are not interactive. This slightly annoyed the girl, but the boy... well he was immediately suspicious.
On the first phone call Santa has just begun his world wide tour and he promises to wend his way to your house soon and regales you with stories of the hot chocolate Mrs. Claus made him for the trip and how he is looking forward to all those cookies. The boy began calmly enough.

"Santa?" he inquires, as if I were pulling a scam on him and it is really an uncle. "Hi, Santa?Santa, why won't you let me talk? "

The first phone call is over and we are instructed to hang up once Santa says goodbye. It is very convenient that Santa now has a cellphone in his sleigh, we used to have to rely on NORAD to track him but now we just call the sleigh and he tells us how close he is.

An hour passes and we decide now is a good time for the second phone call. We decide that mainly because they are bored with the wait until bedtime and because boredom usually leads to blood sports. I call Santa to distract them from their attempts to inflict serious bodily injury on one another, deciding that Christmas Eve in the emergency room of the hospital is not only less than appealing but will also cut seriously into my gift wrapping time. Nothing has been wrapped and all must be done once they are in bed.

So we dial up the number and the special code, hit the # key and are connected once again direct to the man in red. This time the boy is not so cautious in his interrogation. He starts off in a very straightforward manner.

"Who are you?" he asks. "Why don't you talk with me?" "Where is Santa?"

In fact he talks so much that the girl can't hear Santa at all on the other extension and she screams and cries until finally, Santa hangs up (probably in self defense). She cries for ten or so minutes because she didn't hear Santa say where he was this time.

By the time the next hour passes and we call the sleigh, the boy doesn't even want to listen on the phone, he is dancing on the bed and yelling, "that isn't Santa"! The girl takes the cordless phone and leaves the room in disgust and also because she is slightly afraid Santa will hear the embarrassing little brother and pass right by her house.

So far, $4.95 well spent. Something goes wrong at the next and last attempt and the recording tells me that we already made the last phone call. I look at the lighted dial on the phone and realize I typed the secret code in wrong. I immediately dial again and use the correct code which gives me a recording saying that it is invalid.

Okay, now that last phone call is the important one. It is the one where Santa tells you that he is very near and you had better get to bed and be asleep when he gets there. Needless to say, they are not in bed, and much too wound up to sleep.

The girl actually does go to bed, she wants to be asleep, she wants Santa to come and she wants Christmas morning as soon as possible. The boy on the other hand doesn't really fear Santa enough to worry about it and has no intention of sleeping. I discover once again that boy models just don't work the same way girl models do. I call my sister to tell her to leave all the presents in the trunk of my car and I will schlepp them in later if they are ever asleep. She informs them that the newscast just announced that Santa is hovering very close to our town. Well, that works. I mean, if it was on the news, it must be true and even the boy rushes in a panic to get into bed.

The boy who never sleeps falls asleep fairly quickly. The girl who normally goes into the sleep of the dead if she is even horizontal for more than ten minutes, does not. At 10:00pm, she has not managed sleep, she is still wakeful and anxious. She is trying so hard to sleep the stress is keeping her awake. 11:00pm and she seems to be sleeping but at the passing of stockinged feet she stirs and asks the time. I realize that I will not be sleeping tonight.

Finally, nearly midnight and she is breathing slowly and deeply and rhythmically. Ah! Finally the process begins. It takes two trips to the car to haul in the booty. And another ten minutes to sort and decide which presents will be from Mom and which from Santa. I don't want either of us to look like a cheapskate so the good presents are evenly divided. I decide which gift wrap Santa will use and which Mom will use. This is very important, consistency.

The first four presents are wrapped with care, ends even, creases and folds sharp and well secured. But it is now after 1:00am and my coffee is cold. Soon, I am tearing and cutting the gift wrap with ragged edges and using much more than needed. The excess gets wrapped around a second, or perhaps, third time and the ends are not trimmed but folded over any way they will fold and taped excessively. I am getting tired and lazy and a couple of gifts get hung on the tree with just tags and some thrown into recycled gift bags.

Just as I carry the last gift to the tree, I hear the rustling of sheets and run to the bedroom in time to find the girl climbing out of bed. It is now 2:00am.

"Has Santa been here?" she asks.

"No no, honey, it is far too early, I am just coming to bed myself", I explain.

She settles back and I wearily climb into bed, counting on at least 3 hours of good solid and healthful sleep. Alas, this is not to be. At 3:00am she is awake, asking if Santa was here and wanting to go check. I manage to put her off for 15 minutes. Then, there she is again. I settle her back down and pass out for 15 more minutes. By 3:30am she cannot control her curiosity and sneaks into the livingroom for a peek. She runs back to me full of excitement proclaiming "Santa was here! Santa was here!". I see this is not going to be overcome and I promise that if she goes and makes the coffee for me, I will let her wake the boy at 4:00. She has nearly mastered the brewing of coffee, except for sometimes forgetting minor details like the water, or the coffee.

Diligent in her task, she drags the boy unwillingly into a concious state and they run squealing to the tree. Gasps and shrieks, ripping and tearing, the paper flies in sheets and shreds and it is over. They do not, in fact, have any clue which gifts were from me and which were from Santa, they have not noticed the wrapping paper at all. I expected this, and I only take care to make sure I am consistent because only the tiny inconsistency will cause them to notice or to care.

I suppose in its own way, in their eyes, it is all still quite magical. Santa managed once again to get them exactly what they wanted, and they hadn't even been to see him or written him a letter. They sleep, gifts appear. The girl consoles herself over the absence of the GameBoy by reasoning that if Santa didn't leave it, it must be because he knows that her uncle has already purchased it and she will receive it later in the day. Well, of course, she is correct. Santa knows all and never makes mistakes. He makes it all magical and wondrous and he does it all on no sleep. I don't know how he does it.