Funny holiday letters: Take 2

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By Times readers | Sunday, December 24, 2006 10:09 PM CST | () comments

But Mom ...

My daughter was born on Christmas Eve 1979. When Cammy was three years old we were decorating for Christmas when we ran across the very large stocking that the Auxiliary Ladies at Franciscan Hospital had made for all the December babies born that year to come home from the hospital in.

She asked me why we had such a big stocking so I explained to her that it was used as a receiving blanket to bring her home after “she came out of my stomach.” With a look of horror and terror on her face, she looked up at me with her big blue eyes and said, “But you won’t ever eat me again, will you Mommy?

We laugh about that every Christmas Eve on her birthday.

-- Sandy McClean, East Moline

Santa a girl?

I was knee high to Santa when I discovered he couldn’t be real and this is how it happened. The Jaycee Santa came to our home to bring us Christmas. Seated in a chair was Santa and I stood at his feet. Looking up toward his face I noticed an unbuttoned button at chest level, just below his beard.

When I saw it ... his bra! Santa can’t be a girl! That was when I knew, Santa wasn’t real!!!

-- Deanna McFadden

Moldy jello mold

My mother and I were in the kitchen getting some food before we started opening presents, just because in my family we eat before opening. My mother and I walk out into the living room and there is some foul odor coming from one of the presents under the tree. Curiosity got the best of us so my brother and I decided to open it just to see what it was.

One of the grandparents sent a gelatin mold over from California. The present was addressed to my brother so I just laughed as he stood there and kind of chuckled at the moldy jello that has been probably sitting in that box for a good week or two.

-- Ryan Dopler, Bettendorf

‘Mary’ trips on nightgown

A few years ago, my church, Sugar Tree Grove Church, was doing a Christmas pageant. It was about the time Jesus Christ was born. We got to pick who we wanted to be in the play. I picked to be Mary, Jesus’ mother. I had to wear a really long blue nightgown over my clothes. Since I’m short for my age, the dress was dragging on the ground.

Of course, I had to carry something up the aisle, so I couldn’t hold up my gown. When I got half way up the aisle, I tripped and the preacher, a.k.a. narrator, made a comment. When the play was done, I had to walk down some stairs and I took one step, tripped over my gown, and fell down the three steps. I was nearly crying and I was still standing in front of about 20 to 30 people! That’s my funniest Christmas story.

-- Jenni Ischer, Monmouth, Ill.

Ouch!

One Christmas I got a lot of football cards from Santa Claus. There was one package that I didn’t open until the afternoon. When I opened that package, sitting right there was an autographed Billy McMullen card. As soon as I saw that card, I jumped up and started running around the house screaming, shouting, and bragging to my brother Casey. Then I ran right into the wall. I fell right on jacks. It hurt really bad. When I got back up I started running, screaming, shouting and bragging again.

-- Tyler Schuermann, North Henderson, Ill.

Piece of coal?

Two years ago I went to my grandma’s house for Christmas. I was, like normal, snooping around the presents to see how many I was going to get. As I was looking I came across a big box. And guess what, it had my name on it! Lucky for me it was the day we were gong to celebrate Christmas so I didn’t have to wait for like a really long time to get it. All day I ended up trying to think of what it could be but I just could not think of ANYTHING!

Well, that night after dinner we opened presents. I was wondering what it was the whole time. Most of the other presents weren’t as big but they were still cool but I was STILL wondering what was in that box.

Finally, my mom brought me the big one. I started unwrapping it right away. After I unwrapped it there was a blank box so I started opening it. I ended up finding another box that was wrapped but it was smaller. So, of course, I unwrapped it. When I unwrapped it I found another box. I opened it and found ANOTHER box wrapped. Now I was just confused. Well, it ended I followed that pattern about three more times. After that it got to this really small box. I opened it thinking it was going to be another box but when I opened it I found . . . A PIECE OF COAL! I was so thrilled because at the beginning I thought I was getting a really big present.

From that day on I still look at the presents but if I see a big one I wonder if it really a present or a lump of coal because of what happened two years ago.

-- Michelle Ravel, Monmouth, Ill.

Requiem for a Squirrel

‘Twas the day before Christmas and company was coming. I had offered to host dinner for my large family. Our girls were the perfect ages for Santa and all the holiday excitement. Tables were set up around the house and the “good” china and crystal were washed and ready. I’m organized, I thought, what could go wrong?

A carpenter had recently patched a hole in the soffit, during a cold spell. He tried to make sure a squirrel hadn’t gotten in, before closing it up. Mid-day, we noticed an odd, musky odor. It seemed to come from the girls bathroom, so I thought a tossed diaper had missed the trash can. We couldn’t find anything and by five o’clock, the smell permeated the whole house. An air freshener wasn;t going to cut it. We could only assume that a poor creature hadn’t gotten in, died while it was cold, then thawed out as a warm spell came through.

My husband found a dead squirrel in the attic, above the girls bathtub. I made my 4-year old hold the trash bag while I “protected” my 2-year old. Our Christmas dinner was saved, more than I could say for the poor squirrel.

-- Madeleine Roth-Roffy

Running on empty

My funniest holiday moment was in 1998. I had just started working at the Sarah Harding Home in Clinton, Iowa. While I was filling out my employment papers, I was informed I was invited to attend the annual staff Christmas party at the end of the week.

One morning, as I left work, I discovered my car was out of gas. I went back in to tell my boss (Jurgen Duhr) what was happening, and I’d return for my car later. I had no sooner told him than he was headed out the door to a nearby gas station, returning shortly with two gallons of gas.

At the party, after we had eaten and joined in some carol singing, recognition had been given to new employees and those celebrating service anniversaries. I was introduced as the newest hire, and of course, the story of running out of gas was told.

The evening was ended by drawing names for door prizes. My name was drawn, and I blushingly went forward to receive my prize ... a $10 gift certificate at a local gas station.

-- Marna Schroeder

I wish I had a pony

“I wish I had a pony!” “I wish I had a pony!” As a young child of a struggling farm family in the 1940s, this was what I wished every time I blew out a birthday candle, saw the first evening star, or sent my yearly letter to Santa.

One year I was bold enough to write Santa asking that MY PONY be tied to the railing of our front porch. Upon awakening Christmas morning, I rushed to look outside. No pony!

After opening other gifts, it was time to check out the stocking ‘I had hung with care’ the night before. It contained a piece of paper, and my heart leaped as I read the following: “It was too cold to leave a pony tied to your porch — take a look in the barn. Santa.”

There he was — shaggy, hooves too long, and not very clean — but to me he was beautiful. I named him Trigger (which shows the generation I came from), and he did ‘clean up’ great.

The funny (ironic) twist to this story is how that note on a piece of paper ended a part of my childhood innocence. You see, I had never seen Santa’s handwriting before ... but I certainly recognized my father’s scrawl.

-- Marvel Smith, DeWitt, Iowa

Spoons, anyone?

One Christmas Day, all of our relatives got together at my grandma’s house like usual. After eating the gigantic Christmas feast and changing into our comfortable clothes, the annual Spoons tournament began. Three heats of eight people started to quickly pass cards and fight over the spoons in the cleared out rooms.

The beginning rounds were pretty calm this one year with only minor cuts, scratches, and broken metal spoons. Then, it was down to my dad, Jeff, and my uncle, Dave, both returning winners in the tournament. Both down to SPOON, the final play had begun. All of the sudden, Dave yelled. “SPOONS!” He grabbed the spoon and my dad began to tackle him for it. After a couple of growls, screams, kicks, and punches, Dave let out a disturbing scream.

He then whispered, while gasping for air. “One of my ribs just snapped.” A couple of us rushed him to the local hospital and when we told the doctors what had happened they began to fall over laughing, treated him, and then sent him home safely. At the time we were all extremely worried, but now all we can do is laugh at the situation.

-- Coral Manor, Bettendorf

Quite a clatter

My funny moment comes from the time Santa stumbled on our attic steps and caused quite a clatter ... and I sprang from my bed to see what could be the matter...

On Christmas Eve, many years ago, my brother, Paul and I were tucked in our beds awaiting Santa’s arrival. Some time during the night, I awoke to an awful noise of a “clunk, clunk, clunk, CRASH, BANG” and a final clanging sound. I thought, “Wow, Santa is here!”

The first thing I did was check on my kid brother. I figured the noise woke him, too, and knowing how my little brother could be, I expected to hear him wailing away at the sound of the noise. I peeked in and he was asleep (some 40 years later, he could still sleep through an explosion), so with him sleeping and my hearing no further noise, I knew I had better get to bed as Santa might not leave our gifts if he knew I was awake.

The next morning, there was a big, beautiful wagon (with a small scrape) parked next to our Christmas tree. I asked my dad and mom if they heard Santa during the night. They glanced at each other and with a smile, my dad said “Yes, we heard him. I got up to see if he was OK; Santa said he was fine so I went back to bed so he could get back to his work.”

The noises I had heard the previous night was Santa bringing the wagon down our attic stairs. It seems he stumbled and dropped the wagon down the entire flight of steps. At our house, Santa always came down the chimney into our attic, then down the steps to our living room.

My dad and I still chuckle over that incident ... my kid brother missed the whole thing so he doesn’t get the hilarity of it ... except, after all that, my little brother got the wagon.

-- Donna Hein-Stickling, Blue Grass, Iowa

Christmas and the triplets

Well, it started when the family and triplets came home for Christmas. When the triplets came in the house and saw me, they ran at me and talked me down to the floor and started paying rough. When it was Christmas Day I had to buy a present for the triplets so I decided to pull a prank on them. So I got three fake snake robots and mice. When I got back I wrapped the presents up. When the triplets opened their presents, they screamed, and ran behind the chair. I fell down laughing, so did everyone but they didn’t fall to the ground. The triplets play rough whenever they see me but I still know they’re scared of whatever presents I get them.

-- Caleb Turnquist, Monmouth, Ill.

Upside down

When I was younger my sister and I shared bunk beds, and I was on the top. The night before Christmas I was very excited and anxious to get up the next morning and open all the presents under the tree. My sister and I stayed up late talking about what we wanted and which of us were going to be the first to open our presents. I dozed off, dreaming about Santa coming down the chimney and putting presents around the tree while eating his milk and cookies.

I woke up at first sunlight. I jumped up out of bed and went to climb down the ladder, only to find out that my lovely sister was already up and she decided to take the ladder so I couldn’t get down. I slipped and fell and the hook for the ladder caught my whitey tighties and hung me there upside down. I screamed and yelled for my mother and she came running in my room to see what the commotion was. She was astonished to see me hanging there and she burst into tears of laughter as she helped me down.

-- Nick Nelson, Bettendorf

A Rewrapping

It was a bright and snowy Christmas in 1997, I got up earlier than everyone else so I could run down and see the presents. I had been sad the past few days because I had been missing five of my favorite Hot Wheel cars that I always played with. So I knew Christmas would cheer me up, hoping that I would get new ones.

Being very excited I go and wake up my parents so they could come down to watch my sister and I open presents. We began to open all of our presents and were very excited to be doing so. After we finish opening our gifts from Santa we always then open each others gifts. I grab the gift from my sister and open it as if I was trying to stop a bomb from going off. Once I opened happiness poured through me, but so did anger. The gift I got from my sister was the five Hot Wheel cars that I had been dwelling about the past few days. I have never disliked my sister until that day.

-- Jay Wagoner

Who can give the worst gift?

Christmas Day is a day of wonderful surprises to share with your family and friends. Every year my family gathers together at my grandmother’s house, in order to eat lunch and open presents. Since our family is rather big, we have a Secret Santa gift exchange.

The year was 1999 and my aunt, a known prankster, had my father who was just as feisty as her. Starting with the youngest child, we ascended up the age ladder, one present at a time. Finally, last time around, everyone had been saving their biggest present until last. Except for my father, his last present was a miniscule, hot pink bag. Slowly tearing back the tape, he reached into the bag. He pulled out a baggy of cotton balls tied with a giant label reading, “You’ve made Santa’s naughty list this year, don’t deny it, here’s the scoop: He’s run plum out of all his coal, so instead, here’s snowman poop.”

My father, being stubborn, couldn’t be outdone. The next year, he passed on the hot pink bag and every year since the bag has made its rounds. The snowman has long outgrown the hot pink bag and now hides anywhere under the tree.

-- Heather VanDeWostine, Bettendorf