When I was six, my two little sisters and I excitedly bounced out of bed on Christmas morning, pretty sure that Santa Claus had come with presents during the night. We gathered with Mama and Daddy around the cedar tree we had cut in the woods. A chain made from red and green construction paper circled the tree, interspersed with sweet gum balls covered in tin foil peeled from chewing gum wrappers. We had saved the wrappers all year and competed to peel them from the backing in one piece.
Daddy taught fifth and sixth grade and served as principal of the six-grade, three-teacher elementary school in addition to being pastor of the village church. The extra income made for a more abundant Christmas than usual. Each girl had a doll and other gifts to unwrap. In addition to our personal gifts, there was a chalkboard on an easel for the three of us to share. One side was solid black. The other was marked off in a grid with tiny numbers for each square across the top and left side. On the grid side was a chalk picture of Santa Claus. Dangling below was a little book. Chalk rested in the trough.
Newly literate, I opened the book to find small grid patterns with various pictures that could be reproduced on the chalkboard. One was the exact replica of the Santa face on the chalkboard. I was six years old and knew things. If Santa was all as smart as they said, he didn’t need a grid pattern to draw his face on the chalkboard. I saw Mama watching me. I asked, “You did that picture, didn’t you? There is not a Santa Claus.” She acknowledged my find quickly but asked me not to tell the other girls.
Soon the smell of coffee brewing and baking biscuits filled the room where we examined our new dolls, feeling the starchy stiffness of their hairdos and checking the parts of their wardrobes for authenticity. When Mama called us to the table, country sausage and some church member’s homemade jelly joined her standard buttered biscuits to finish out our breakfast. I listened to four-year-old Beth and two-year-old Gwyn chattering across the table about Santa’s gifts. I caught Mama’s eye and we smiled. I knew something they didn’t know.