Christmas Eve
Louis: "You look great babe," you giggled, watching Louis pull up the big, bushy white beard. Your son was young yet, just five and you wanted to keep the magic of the Holidays alive a little longer before he realized Santa wasn’t real. Some of the kids in his class told him that he was fake, and he’d cried for hours. So to keep the spirit alive, Louis dressed up as Santa. "Thanks Mrs. C," he said giving you a quick, scratchy peck through his beard. "Go hide in the kitchen!" You did as he asked, listening to him thump around and let out a hearty, "ho ho ho!" It was loud enough to shake the entire house. Just as you both thought, you heard little boy footsteps run down the hall way in curiosity. A trait, you knew, that came straight from his father. "Santa," he breathed, face pressed against the banister on the stairs. "He’s real," his little eyes were filled with wonder. He couldn’t believe Santa was here. He turned, and your son gasped. "James!" Santa whispered walking over. "You should be in bed young man!" He stared wide eyed. Santa knew his name! "Good boys sleep on Christmas Eve, and you’re a good boy, right?" Santa asked. Louis heart broke at how happy his son looked in that moment. "Yes Santa. You’re real," his little hand touched his beard and Louis grinned. "Yes I am. Now go on up to bed, Santa’s got more stops to make." He obeyed immediately, waving as he rounded the corner. You came out from the kitchen, tears in your eyes. Louis took off the wig and hat and pressed a hard kiss to your mouth. This was the best Christmas ever, and neither of you could believe how lucky you were.
