The Santa I grew up with was your average happy, I’m-not-perfect-but-do-over-
indulge kind of Santa. He was thoughtful about the way in which he entered and left things for us in the house and he never gave me coal. He ate most of the treats left for him and even seemed to have read the notes that were left thanking him. I remember a unique feeling of excitement I had on the night of Christmas Eve. That evening, just after spending time with all the family, having watched some television special full of cheery music I only listened to one time a year, getting into my winter pajamas, sipping my last sip of cocoa/cider, and after being tucked in bed I would really feel that excitement. I knew that when I woke up all my dreams (material dreams mind you...but I was under 10 years old!) would be answered. My biggest worry that night was how exactly Santa planned on entering the house without a chimney. I don't know if I ever feel that same type of anticipation to this day.