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.
