Happy Chirstmas! Ya know, it's been making me a bit sad to see all of the comments from parents who mention that their kids are 'too old' to believe in Santa.... I believe in Santa....not the guy at the mall....but the tradition started long ago by a bishop in a poor country....and this is the story I shared with my kids about Santa: Long ago, very poor people used to have to live in the attics in the very tippy-tops of cramped buildings. And buildings were built very close together. To get from place to place, poor folks used to clamber across the rooftops from house to house. They could visit their whole family without their feet ever touching the ground....which was just as well because "civilized" folks did not want to see these dirty, skinny, attic-dwelling beggars out on the streets. In those days, there was no Walmart or Kmart to buy your clothes. If you were poor, you waited for someone's hand-me-downs. Poor folks usually owned just two outfits. And there was no indoor plumbing and no washing machines. All the washing had to be done by hand after bucket loads of water were lugged up to the attic. The day before church was always wash day. It was customary to wear an outfit for a week....take it off at the end of the week, wash oneself, and then put on the clean outfit while the other was washed. And there were no clothes dryers--so wet clothes were hung around the stove to dry. And because Christmas Day was a church day....Christmas Eve was wash day....and all the poor went to bed with their clothing hanging around the fireplace and stove to dry. The bishop (and you could tell he was the bishop by his bright red cloak and pointy red hat) wanted to help these poor people at Christmas time. So he began to take to the rooftops on Christmas Eve and drop coins from the church's collection plate down the stove pipes and chimneys into the attic apartments below. And the poor would awaken to find gold coins in their stoves and fireplaces--and fallen into the pockets of their trousers or the toes of their stockings. It was a Christmas miracle! And by and by, the bishop grew older and older.... but his gifts seemed to travel farther and farther every year. So somebody, somewhere, must have been helping the old man make all of his Christmas deliveries... And to this very day, even though that bishop has long passed, when people awaken Christmas morning, they find that they have had a visit from one of his many, many, many helpers--who left a gift for them to find on Christmas Day. The miracle continues... And I believe. Merry Christmas!