Recovering Snoop

Recovering Snoop

                                        by Collette

Santa Clause arrived with presents on Christmas Eve when I was little, and always when my dad took us to town to get the evening paper. It took several years for me to make the connection that Mother never went with us. My sister and I fretted each year that Santa would not come because we didn’t have a chimney and were forced to hang our stockings on the knobs of the old floor radio my parents had, but he always came.

My older son carried on the tradition of having Santa arrive, but he sent his wife and children to church. He arrived later in his truck. One of my brilliant grand-daughters figured out the plan at an early age. It required Grandpa to help carry out the ruse my son developed. The family all left together for the church service. On the way to town my grand-daughter quizzed her dad in a loud whisper about how Santa was going to bring the presents this year. The questions continued through church and on the way home. Much to her surprise, Santa did arrive (thanks to Grandpa) and the Santa secret survived a few more years.

When I got older Santa Claus brought presents early Christmas morning, but there was a catch with opening the presents that was added. We couldn’t open anything until my dad got back to the house after finishing chores. It is a long time from 6:00 a.m. to 8:00 a.m. if one is little and excited about opening presents. When my dad finally arrived, he suggested we get dressed first, or eat breakfast or why didn’t we wait until after dinner to open our gifts? After much whining and probably some tears he relented and we could finally open our presents.

To combat the waiting I developed my own plan: I became a snoop. I have always been an insomniac, so when my parents went to bed I began my forays into the living room to check things out. I was probably in the fourth grade when I began this and started small with just the stockings. As I got older and more adept at stealth, I began looking into sacks and bags hidden in the front closet after Mother went shopping. A trip to Wichita or Tulsa always netted interesting finds.

I never asked Mother if she knew I did this because she never called me on its. My baby sister was never involved; I was the lone felon. Things went smoothly for me until I was in high school and found: the ugly green dress. Hideous was the nicest thing I could say about it. It took all of the acting ability I had to appear surprised and pleased that Christmas morning.

I reformed after that incident and was able to resist temptation until I had been married for about five years. I went down the forbidden path when I was doing a load of laundry. In my husband’s jeans was his wallet, and I needed to remove it before I washed it. (I have had experience doing that and ruining the contents in the washer, and if I was really lucky finishing everything off in the drier.)

When I removed the wallet, a slip of paper floated to the floor. I went down the crooked path and read it. Hmmmm! My husband had purchased a leather coat for someone and it was just my size. I had no trouble acting surprised and   pleased the Christmas morning. Honestly some years required more acting than others, but my sneaking around continued for several years.

Riddled with guilt and wanting to get back on the wagon, I jokingly confessed to my husband my crimes. Needless to say he didn’t think it was funny and ended my confession time by firmly stating there would be no more Christmas presents if I continued snooping. I had to think about this for a long time. I convinced myself he would probably carry through with the threat if he caught me. I walked the straight and narrow path for a long time, and really believed I had reformed until…

For years after my confession my husband removed his billfold, phone and changes from his pockets. Then he forgot and I laundered everything again. So now I am back to searching pockets. (I have an aversion to sticking my hands into men’s pockets because of the horrible things I have found in my boys’ jeans.) As a result I have slipped down the crooked path a time or two and haven’t gotten caught. I like to think I am a skilled snoop now, by my husband’s threat keeps me good-most of the time.