I was gullible – very gullible! Santa Claus was the realest thing walking since…well since I was! My parents didn’t have to work very hard to make me believe that he was real because I just knew that he was. You’re not going to believe this, but I saw him! I really did!

Let me tell you the story!

I was probably no older than maybe 5 years! You know, back then one of the hardest things to do was fall asleep on Christmas Eve. I had fallen victim to the famous pre-holiday insomnia. I was trying so hard, but just couldn’t take my mind off of the milk and cookies that my mom helped me to lay out for the Big Guy… Or how the “Big Guy” was going to get in our house in the first place, considering we didn’t have a chimney for him to come down. Anywho! I knew he was coming, and I wanted to see him!

That year, I got exactly what I wanted. I was in my mom’s room sitting on the edge of her bed watching television and heard some loud footsteps accompanied by bells, jingling if you will.

I jumped up and peeped outside of the bedroom door to see this big, red butt beside our Christmas tree! Some man in a Santa suit was bending over under our tree. I was frozen with excitement. Somehow I gathered enough strength to run back to my mom’s bed and bury my head under her comforter … then I probably woke up (now that I’m actually thinking about it years later.)

Needless to say, that was all the proof I needed for Santa to be real in my eyes! Every time someone mentioned Santa, I told them about what I saw. Of course they laughed, but they went along with it.

I believed in Santa until I was around 14 years old.

Now, let me tell you that story!

So, the Christmas after what I believe was my 14^th birthday, I asked Santa for a go-cart. My dog gave it to me, too! I was ecstatic! It was probably 20 degrees outside (that was back when Alabama was cold in December), but I rode that go-cart around the yard all day long!

The next day, as I was riding my go-cart I popped the clutch. I was mad, but optimistic. Anyways, my dad was trying to fix it and what he said while tampering with the clutch really did upset me! He said, “I’m gonna take this back to that man! Get my money back!”

I looked up like, “You’re goin’ to the North Pole???”

Then it hit me. My Daddy had gotten my go-cart from some pawn shop, hand-me-down, junk yard cashier and it was a piece of Sugar Honey Ice Tea! Now he was upset, and he didn’t care whether I knew it or not.

I never believed in Santa again.

And I never rode that go-cart again.