Richard took a healthy swig of milk, wiped chocolate chip cookie crumbs from his lips and surveyed his handiwork; the Christmas tree glimmered, branches drooping beneath the freight of ornaments (mostly handmade in the chic, Picassoesque style known as Early Kindergarten). Beneath it, the presents were a shiny, colorful mountain that was steadily growing as the evening progressed; they weren’t wrapped as well as his wife would have managed; Richard’s gift wrap skills generally ended in a final product that reminded him of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. However, he expected that a five year old (especially one of Cody’s enthusiastic temperament) would have the paper torn off too quickly to notice that the seams were crooked, or that 3M was probably suffering from a scotch tape shortage. He left the empty plate and glass on the hearth to be examined in the morning for proof of Santa’s visit, and was nearly finished with the assembly of GI Joe’s Action Cave, when he paused, head tilted a bit at a faint sound. It seemed to be coming from the hallway; he waited a moment; a faint creak followed, and then pensive silence. With a carefully nonchalant attitude, he observed at the edge of his peripheral vision the door that stood slightly ajar, and beyond that, the faint gleam of curious eyes. He ought to have know that Cody would never have fallen asleep as quickly as he had seemed to; not on *this* night, of all nights … and that he would never be able to resist trying to catch a glimpse of Santa at work. As each of them pretended to be unaware of the other, Richard felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia; for an instant, he was six years old again, sleepy-eyed in the dark, having snuck downstairs to get his own peek at St. Nick; quiet as a mouse, he had crouched in the shadowy alcove of his mother’s foyer and watched as a burly figure in red and white carefully stacked his gifts beneath the tree; the jolly visitor’s face had been mostly concealed by an oversized comber of white beard that he occasionally scratched at as though it were quite uncomfortable… … a glimpse of motion caught Richard’s eye, bringing him swiftly back to the present. The door, ajar seconds earlier, had been pulled silently closed, and the soft thump of furtive footsteps retreated upstairs, leaving him in solitude once more. He grinned under the itchy beard hooked over his ears and smoothed a hand over the red velveteen suit ballooning out over the throw pillow he’d stuffed down his shirt to create the illusion of a large, cheerful belly (no doubt the result of thousands of cookies left out all over the world; Richard speculated that Santa was probably wholeheartedly tired of chocolate chips by now). When his own father had given him the costume, shortly after Cody was born, he had told Richard that he’d need it one day … and so he had. _____________ 502 words Inspired by spotting a mall santa semi-out of costume, talking with a thirty-ish man who was obvious his son, while eating a burger in the food court. :)