There have been whispers in our house. Rumors. Tales of Santa occasionally looking in on boys and girls while they sleep, checking on the toys he so lovingly crafted in his workshop to make sure they've been properly cared for and put away. My wide-eyed boys listened to these stories but, sadly, did not take them to heart. Their room remained a disaster of the highest order; toys strewn about, broken plastic pieces tossed into corners, piles of scribbled papers, bent and torn books.
Santa stopped by our house last night. He did not like what he saw.
My boys handled the news with surprisingly little complaint. Though, when they found a couple toys I had put away under their bed they thanked me for "hiding them from Santa." I do what I can.