Read Online Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas by Jack Canfield - Free Book Online Page B

it.
    As the big day neared, my evening ritual was to recline on the carpet in the living room, stare up at the lights on the tree, and imagine how the log cabin would look sitting beside it with a big red bow. I would cut the red ribbon and enter the door to see an Easy Bake Oven in the corner.
    Christmas Eve came, and my sisters and I sat on the couch as we did every year, and waited for Santa’s sleigh and reindeer to come flying up the street and onto the roof. My eyes grew heavy as the neighborhood lights went out one by one. Dad told my sisters it was time to turn in as he picked me up and carried me to bed.
    The rule for Christmas morning was that no one was allowed into the living room until the music played.
    Pacing in our room for an hour drove us crazy with excitement. In that time, I imagined the log cabin in every possible position in the living room. At last, “Joy to the World” sang out, and my sisters blasted out ahead of me. My brother came thundering down the hall, swooped me up, and flew me into the living room like an airplane—sound effects and all. “ZZOOOOMMMM!”
    â€œMERRY CHRISTMAS!” I shouted.
    While hugging Mom and Dad, I scanned the room for the log cabin. It was nowhere in sight.
    â€œHere’s something from Santa,” yelled my sister.
    She ripped off the shiny paper and screamed with delight.
    â€œIt was on my list!”
    For the next forty-five minutes, my family opened presents with the same delight—except me. I did my best to fool everyone that I, too, was happy.
    â€œLook, sweetheart,” said Mom, “here’s something from Grandma.”
    I ripped open the present and found new pajamas.
    â€œThese are pretty,” I said.
    â€œJust what you needed,” said Mom. I smiled and held them close—a real Academy Award performance.
    â€œGo ahead and put them on.” As I walked down the hall, I thought maybe the cabin would be in the bathroom—a glimmer of hope that quickly faded upon entering. In pretty pink floral pajamas, I continued pretending to love every gift I opened until I could take no more and burst into tears. Everyone stopped looking over their gifts and started laughing, which made me cry even more.
    â€œOh, what’s this about?” asked Dad, picking me up. “I loved the clay coffee mug you made me.” I sniffled and tried to say something.
    â€œWait a minute,” said Dad. “I almost forgot there was a special delivery—something for you outside by the swing set.”
    â€œWhat!” I exclaimed, hugging him around the neck.
    He put me down, and I ran out in the frosty air through the back yard and to the swing set where it sat—a genuine cedar log cabin.
    It was even bigger in real life. I opened the door, entered, and gazed up at the ceiling. The smell of cedar filled the space. I stuck my head out the window and said, “It even smells good.” I spent the rest of the morning playing inside and out of the cabin. My sisters teased me, while my brother complimented me on my acting skills. Mom and Dad sat on the swings, sipping their coffee and watching us all. I felt so special and was at that moment the happiest girl in the world. As for the Easy Bake Oven, I worked on that for the following year.
    To this day, whenever my family gets together, we still have a good laugh about my “log cabin Christmas.”
    Kerry Germain

“I’ll worry about the future later,
right now I’m really enjoying the present.”
    Reprinted by permission of Jonny Hawkins. © 2007 Jonny Hawkins.

Here Comes Santa Claus
    This year I had planned to start early—before Thanksgiving. I would take advantage of the extra time my special-needs son would need to “get acquainted” with Santa when there were no waiting lines. When my daughter was small, we would go to the mall to see Santa Claus. It was quite an ordeal. I would begin by selecting the perfect dress.