Bobby’s year long wait for Christmas was coming to an end; not so much the holiday itself, but more of the wait for “Santa”. He had been a good boy all this year (especially with Adam Tucker, who happened to bother him the most), and just knew that Santa would reward him for his behavior.
What inspired Bobby’s good conduct was his desire for a new set of ‘Colt’ cap guns. And these were not the average playthings, they were top of the line—these had projectile bullets, which came straight out of the barrel.
On Christmas Eve, Bobby went through his regular routine of the day. His mom let him ‘sleep in’ until 10:30 (after all, he was used to getting up around 6 o’ clock for school). He gobbled down a nice warm bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and ran outside to play in the fresh snowfall.
For hours Bobby played in the brisk weather with his friends, until the sun started to set and everyone had to return indoors. Once inside, he took a seat in front of the fireplace to thaw his semi frozen body. He watched as small fragments from the wood popped and crackled as they were engulfed in flames.
Sometime later, which was normally right before dinner, Bobby’s Mom told him that he was allowed to open one present. Not the biggest, of course , but usually the smallest of the bunch that covered the skirt of their tree. He ripped through the thick layer of paper that hid the gift from plain sight, and was happy to find a pack of baseball cards.
After dinner Bobby washed up and headed to bed, and after his prayers the boy’s father tucked him in for the night. Once he was settled, his Father read him a bedtime story, until the child fell fast asleep.
