When I was a little girl, probably in the 2nd grade, some surprise visitors stopped by our house one winter evening. There, in my kitchen, stood Santa and Mrs. Claus.
Or to be more accurate, there stood my Uncle Stan and Aunt Janet, dressed as St. Nick and his wife, delivering oranges to all the kids they knew. I thought it was awesome, having my aunt and uncle dressed up and handing out gifts, but my sister, who was probably 5 at the time, was completely freaked out by them. She had no idea who it was, didn't like strangers, and burst into tears. I tried to console her and explain that it was just Stan and Janet in costume but she wouldn't have it. I think she hid in our bedroom the rest of the time they were there. Poor Whitneigh wasn't as excited about meeting Santa as I was.
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