For three years we had tried and failed, but this year was going to be different – we were finally gonna capture Santa! My three brothers, The Sister and I had learned a lot from those failed attempts.
That’s why, as we snuck into the living room, I confidently whispered, “Can’t wait to see him in our trap!”
My brothers and The Sister quickly shushed me, and rightly so. None of us wanted to wake up Mom or Dad. We all knew they’d put a quick end to our greatest Santa trap yet – then tell us to go back to bed. After all, the grandfather clock down the hallway had just chimed midnight, and none of us should have been awake, and we surely shouldn’t have been rolling out our sleeping bags in front of the fireplace waiting on Santa to spring our trap. We’d learned a lot since our first trap three years before, and this time we knew we had finally outsmarted him. Besides, I wasn’t a kid anymore; I was eight.
The first time we set a trap for Santa was the year Twin Brother Mark and I turned five. On Christmas Eve, after Mom and Dad had tucked us in and gave us a good night kiss, we acted like we were going to sleep. After counting to 100, we sat up in our beds, turned on our flashlights, pulled covers over our head, and waited. The flashlights were to keep us awake, and we knew Santa wouldn’t see us under the covers. After all, we were hiding.
It was a perfect plan…for a kid who was five. Unfortunately, we fell asleep. In the morning, we awoke to the smells of bacon frying, pancakes and hot maple syrup. That’s when we found a note from Santa on our pillows.
Better luck next year. Ho, Ho, Ho. Santa.
The next year, Mark and I waited in our beds until we thought our parents were asleep – then we snuck into the living room and hid behind the Christmas tree. Through the branches we could see the fireplace. We didn’t even bring our flashlights so we knew Santa would never see us. Unfortunately, sometime after eleven, we fell asleep. Again, we woke to the smells of bacon frying, pancakes and hot maple syrup. That’s when we found a note from Santa under the tree.
You snooze, you lose. Better luck next year. Ho, Ho, Ho. Santa.
The third year, again Mark and I waited in our beds listening for our parents to go to sleep. When the grandfather clock chimed ten o’clock, we crept into the living room to set our perfect Santa trap into motion. Earlier that day, we’d convinced Mom to bake some chocolate chip cookies. Why chocolate chip? Because she had told us that was Santa’s favorite cookie.
We both ate a cookie then hid the rest in our room. That night, we placed the cookies in a large pile on a dish in front of the fireplace for Santa. Mark tied a black thread around one of them, and the other end to our fingers. When Santa ate the cookie, the tugging would wake us up. The plan was perfect! The next morning, we woke to the smells of bacon frying, pancakes and hot maple syrup. That’s when we found a note from Santa on the empty dish still on the hearth. The note had black thread tied around it.
Chocolate chip is my favorite. Thanks for the cookies. Ho, Ho, Ho. Santa.
But this was the year we were going to catch Santa. With the help from Older Brother Richard, Big Brother James, and The Sister, it was now five against one. Surely, we could outsmart one Santa. Again, after the ten o’clock chime, our parents went to bed, and we could put our perfect Santa trap into action.
All of us went into the living room with our sleeping bags, pillows, the plate of chocolate chip cookies The Sister had baked, and a spool of black thread. We placed the plate in front of the fireplace and carefully tied thread around each of the cookies and the other ends around our wrists. If Santa ate just a single cookie, the tugging would alert one of us kids. With all the tying done, we slipped into our sleeping bags waiting for the big guy to arrive. That was the last thing I remember. The next morning, I awoke to the smells of bacon frying, pancakes, hot maple syrup, AND frantic tugging on the thread around my wrist!
We had finally caught Santa! Or had we?
I quickly realized the tugging was coming from all of us. The other ends of the thread, once wrapped around the cookies, were now somehow wrapped around each of us. Looking over at the cookie plate still on the fireplace hearth, we saw it was empty except for a pile of crumbs and a folded note. Opening the note, I read it out loud to my brothers and The Sister.
Almost. Thanks for the cookies. Ho, Ho, Ho. Santa.
As we rolled up our sleeping bags, I thought, “Almost? That means Santa could be caught! We would just have to come up with a really, really good Santa trap next year.”
The Really, Really Good Santa Trap.
The year Mark and I turned nine, our Santa trap was indeed perfect. And the end results were perfect also. Then again, I guess the “perfect” outcome really depends on which one of us kids you asked. To find out what actually happened (and who got all tangled up and trapped), you’ll have to join us here next week. Until then, tell your kids to keep working on their Santa traps. He’s had a lot of practice avoiding them over the years.
Just ask my three brothers, The Sister, or me.
