The Great Christmas Caper

I think it was either 1976 or '77 when my sister, Pam, and I nearly pulled off one of the greatest Christmas capers in family history.

We already knew the truth about Santa, so Mom and Dad would wrap our gifts up a few days early and put them under the tree. "Do not touch those presents," they would say. You have to know that it drove us insane wondering what on earth we were getting. We would lay in the floor beside the tree just staring at our gifts, trying to figure out, by their sizes what they were. A model car for me perhaps? A Bay City Rollers album for Pam? We nearly made ourselves sick thinking about it.

Finally, our lucky day came...or so we thought. Our parents had to go to town for some reason, and they needed to leave us alone at the house. They took our younger sister, Jennifer, with them. "You all stay away from that Christmas tree," they warned. "Oh we will," we said, with our fingers and toes crossed. We watched as the car pulled out of the driveway and motored over the hill. As soon as we shut the door, Pam and I both looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing. This is where things get interesting...

We went around the Christmas tree and picked out our presents. "To Byron from Santa," "To Pam from Santa" We were almost giddy with the thought of finding out what we had. We picked them up one at a time and shook them. "Hmm, not really sure what this one is," I remember saying. "Yeah, me neither," was Pam's reply. It was then that I had the most creative and evil idea that a 10-year old boy could have. I quickly ran to the bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet. My dad used one of those refillable razors and always had a tiny pack of refills. I pulled a razor blade from the package and headed back to the living room. I felt awfully proud to have come up with such a brilliant plan. I laid down on the floor, took one of my Christmas packages and with the precision of a surgeon, sliced through the tape. I smugly looked up at Pam and she was grinning from ear to ear. It was a flawless plan. We would open all of our gifts, see what we were getting, and then re-tape them all. No one would ever be the wiser!

Now, flash forward to Christmas morning. We always woke up around 5:00 on Christmas morning, eager to open our presents. I'll have to admit that I wasn't quite as excited this time since I already knew what I was getting. But Pam and I had to act normal so no one would discover our evil deed. We gathered around the Christmas tree as the presents were handed out. I knew we were in trouble when I saw mom inspecting one of the packages a little too closely. I nervously glanced over at Pam, she had a look of sheer terror on her face. Then, just like in the movies, in slow motion, all of our eyes met. We were going to die on Christmas morning! Mom and Dad began going through all of our presents examining our handiwork. All I wanted to do was turn into liquid and pour myself through a crack somewhere. Should I lie and deny having anything to do with it? Or should I go ahead and fess up and face the music? I chose to lie. "I don't have any idea how that happened!" The crease in Dad's forehead must have been an inch deep. "You opened those presents, and you know you did!" he said. I wanted to keep denying it but one look over at Pam and I knew it was useless. There she sat, red faced, eyes closed, tears pouring down, snot streaming, Pam couldn't tell a lie if her life depended on it.

Well, they say that confession is good for the soul. That may be true; however, it's not good for the hind-end. I can't remember exactly what amount of punishment we received for our Christmas crimes, I must have blanked it all out! I do know that our parents never let us forget it and from that day on, waited until we we were in bed on Christmas Eve before putting gifts under the tree.