Not mine, my mother's. And not this year, but many years ago in a little house far away. I'll guess I was about 7 or 8, laying in bed awake long after bedtime. Crying into my pillow, in fact, because I *knew* Santa wouldn't come if anyone in the house was up and about, and my mother was sewing. And sewing and sewing. I'd doze off, then wake up to still hear the hum of the sewing machine. I listened for sleigh bells, afraid to hear them because, of course, Santa would pass us by since Mom was still up. When I finally did fall asleep for the night, at who knows what time (as a kid, I was sure it was Very Late, but it may only have been 10:15...who knows now?) the light was still on and the sewing machine was still going.
And to think I credited Santa for the handmade doll clothes I got the next day...
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