When I was a kid, it always seemed that Christmas would never come, but at last there it was. And I loved it.
We had the tree trimmed, greeting cards sent and our kitchen smelled of sugar and cinnamon so thick you could almost taste it.
It was time to start listening for Santa Claus to come flying into town on his magical sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer.
It was evening on Christmas Eve around 1989 while Melvin and I were visiting at our daughter Sharon’s home in Romney when suddenly we heard giggling and scuffling on the stairs in their hall next to the living room. Out danced two life-sized Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls, both throwing kissess and doing somersaults. Raggedy Ann did a somersault and rolled down, down, down the steps with Andy trailing after her.
It seemed that two of our granddaughters, Ashley and Meagan, had stripped the clothes off their large Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls that I had made and dressed up in them.
They put on a real show for us, dancing around like two little tumbleweeds in the hall before they disappeared around the corner to the dining room.
We were still reeling with amazement when Raggedy Ann showed up again, curtsied, and gave us each a decorated cupcake from the table; then she and Andy flopped down on a step and shared a Coke.
We all came close to choking on our cupcakes when Melvin spoke up and said, “I didn’t know rag dolls drank Cokes.”
It was getting late so we all opened one gift with the family as we traditionally do on Christmas Eve. The music was gone, dinner cleaned up and it was time for the children to be tucked in their beds so Santa Claus could do his work.
We had enough drama in our life for one day so Melvin and I put on our coats and hugged our rag dolls.
Christmas was over for another year.