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But no, your parents invite the stranger in red to enter in. They offer him a seat by the tree and while he settles in you try your best not to scream. If you're lucky, he'll offer to sing you a christmas carol, which is perfect because it'll buy you time to get your nerves in order while the old man croons. But then, if he sings, you gotta sing back. Darn! (Hadn't I practiced this stupid song in day care, how come I can't remember the words now. Man, I gotta pee. Wish he'd give the presents already and bail.) The power of song however soon takes over and you feel more at ease after melodically abusing "Here comes Santa Claus".
Soon as you've started getting comfortable with the presence of Old Saint Nick, he starts handing the presents. And you are reminded of why you had been waiting for his visit to begin with. PRESSIES! If you are really lucky, he'll got something in store for you to make the whole torture worth it. If I were a little girl of five or so, discovering a cute pink bag under the wrapping paper would totally make me appreciate the horrors my parents put me through in the name of Christmas.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
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