“There’s, like, a huge pile of packages out here, did you know?”
“Get out of the way!” I shout, toppling my children like bowling pins.
“What’s in there, Mom? Is it for us?” ask my mosquitoes.
“None of your business!”
My stomping covers the clamorous clattering of toys as I drag the heavy stack upstairs. I cram the boxes in my closet and hide them behind rarely-worn dresses. An old blanket covers the teetering mountain.
“Can we see?”
“No! Don’t come in here!”
Slamming the door shut, I wonder if they might have guessed that their Christmas presents had arrived.

From Guest Contributor Sarah Czarnecki

Sarah is a dog-walking, fast-knitting, list-making Sconnie who sometimes writes.

My neighbor’s colorful red, blue and green Christmas lights gleam
through my window, as my tree with white lights and silver garland
enliven the room.

I sit with my coffee and watch my wife and children prepare milk and
sugar cookies for Santa.

The Christmas song Silent Night plays on the radio and I sit back, feet
reclined, taking in the warmth of the fireplace.

My kids leave the milk and cookies by the fireplace, expecting Santa will come through the chimney with his big round belly and toys.

My family is as true the meaning of Christmas as Jesus.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Brian wasn’t sure how it happened, whether it was the Christmas wish just before his father’s death, or the aftereffects of some magical spell uttered generations before in his attic, but every night, when his mother wasn’t around, his toys came alive.

His life was now a living hell. He didn’t mind the work itself, but the beatings and tongue-lashings were, to his mind, excessive. If only the toys would tell him what they wanted in a calm manner, he’d finish everything without complaint.

Billy was consumed by fear. Somewhere on the other side of the closet door was the man come to kill him.

It was not long after the incident that Billy checked himself back into rehab. Three days spent in the closet, hiding from the mailman, finally drove home the point that his marijuana addiction was out of control.

As with most children’s songs, this one possessed a sinister undertone that was shockingly obvious in hindsight.

Perhaps we should have taken heed when the theme song was translated into English.