Drunk Santa Story

Hello All...

Hubs was reading my blog and thought I had made my dad out to be a drunk in the Santa in the oven story, so I thought I would tell the story of the "Dented Metal Stove"...

My dad does not drink a lot, but his company was having a Christmas party on Christmas Eve and he got a little tipsy...

Sis and I were in bed dreaming of everything that Santa was going to bring us...

The next part of this story is based solely on what my parents have told me (since I was dreaming at the time the incident happened, I can only go on what they said happened)...

Sis and I were sleeping, so mom decided to put out our Santa gifts and go to bed because she didn't know how late dad was going to be...When dad got home, he didn't realize the gifts were out and he tripped over the brand new metal oven (when I was a child, metal was safe to play with...grin) that "Santa" had given me...

Mom said when she heard the noise and went to check on it, she found dad sitting in the oven part of the stove...she helped him out of the oven...Not knowing what to do, because they didn't have any other big gift for me, they left the oven in hopes that I wouldn't realize the damage (mom says they really didn't know how much damage it had because it was late in the night and they didn't cut on a lot of lights for fear of waking us and they were afraid if they moved it too much that the noise would wake Sis and I up, so they just went to bed)

This is the rest of the story as I remember -

When we got up Christmas morning, Sis and I ran to wake up mom and dad and then ran to the living room to see what Santa had gotten us...with mom and dad right on our heels...

I remember seeing the stove and stopping dead in my tracks because something looked wrong (now for those of you who are picturing this in their minds, my dad is built a lot like Santa, so think about the size of the old metal stoves and the size of a man Santa's size sitting in the oven...why my parents didn't think there was more damage is beyond me, but...)

I remember walking over to the stove and looking at my parents. Dad said I had the saddest eyes he had ever seen and he just couldn't tell his little girl that it was he who damaged my stove, so he said the first thing he could think of...

"Honey, Santa drinks a lot and he fell into your stove."

I think I remember my mom gasping or something...Sis was only 3 so she didn't really know what was going on...

I remember standing there thinking about what my dad said and looking at my pitiful stove and I knew then that there was no Santa...Mom and dad tried to tell me it was the Grinch who did it, but I wouldn't believe it...

I never tried to tell Sis there was no Santa...and I let her believe it as long as she wanted to...

I love Christmas and Son had gifts from Santa every year that he believed...

And looking back, I realize that this whole incident is the reason I don't like to cook/bake...I mean when Santa damages your stove/oven like that...that has to be a sign for me to not cook/bake...grin...

I found this picture on the web, so here's a picture (or the closest thing to what I remember) of the little stove...it did come with a fridge (which is what this stove is setting on)...

If only Santa would have fallen into the fridge, maybe I wouldn't like to eat so much...grin...