When I was little, I always loved going to Nanie's house at Christmas time. There would be be an appearance of Santa himself ... I never saw him, but I
heard his bells, the tromping of hoofs, and Santa's bellowing voice as he filled our stockings and said nice things about us all. Funny. Santa's voice sounded an awful lot like Nanie's.
My stocking would be filled with various bits and bobs, but without fail, there would be cellophane wrapped Christmas nougats. The peppermint kind with a candy cane stripe around the circular edge and a little green Christmas tree in the middle. Marvelous.
I also looked forward to a cuddle or two with a Santa Baby. There were several sizes. All united, however, in their petite, austere cuteness. I'm told they once belonged to Nanie's mama. They had ... and still do have ... a faint smell of wool and nostalgia.
Just my size, these little, sturdy red elves would spend the day taking a ride on my hip or sitting in my lap.
And now they warm the laps of a new generation, just as enchanted as I.
