Christmas Stories

It's the right time to trot out some Christmas stories. Let's hear em.


My Grandfather always used to tell me about a couple of guys he knew (many years ago) who were working in a logging camp over Christmas. On Christmas Eve the one guy hangs up a sock much to the amusement of his buddy.

Buddy, being quite the joker, rises super early and takes the sock out to the stable where he fills it with horse manure. Then he brings it back in, hangs it up again and returns to bed.

He gets up later to his friend making breakfast and asks, "So did Santa bring you anything?"

"Yeah", came the dry reply, "He brought me a horse but it sh*t in my sock and ran away."

One Christmas HUbby went to great lengths to make evidence of Santa's visit. Our kid was a bit of a doubting Thomas. We told her, Santa is coming tonight, be sure and listen really close. Well she kept her ears peeled and didn't hear a thing. In the morning we asked her, did you hear Santa? Naw, I don't think he came. Yes he did, here are the tracks from his sleigh.

Sure enough, on the lawn, two deep grooves where the sled runners has touched down and hoofprints from 8 reindeer and Rudolph upfront. Of course Santa was here, too bad you missed it.

When she was older she talked about that every Christmas and has bugged us to know how we did it. I'll tell you how...we arrange for the man in red to come barreling out of the sky and skid to a stop on our lawn. It's all about who you know.

Just got this in an email. Great little story.


I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid.


I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.
For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.
I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.
I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."
The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.
Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were -- ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.
May you always have LOVE to share,
HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care...
And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

We had a fairly recent (last year) occurrence that I'm sure will become a story in future years.

It all started one early Christmas morning. The kids awoke with great excitement. I of course, had been awake for quite sometime, drinking my coffee and reading in blissful quiet to the glow of the tree. Santa brought all sorts of goodies. After rapid paper ripping and cries of excitement, my husband retired back to bed for a while.

I was in the middle of making waffles, when I hear this little voice, "Mommy? My head is itchy. Can you look at it?" "Yes, yes!" And I put breakfast on hold. Well, apparently, I yelled "OH NO!!!!!!" a few minutes later. And then my other daughter says "My head is itchy too!" Come to think of it, my own head, was kinda itchy, but we had dry weather, and I was thinking I had an itchy scalp from that. Next thing I know, I'm bawling like a baby, as we all have head lice. Yes, you can imagine the excitement of that morning! My husband thought it was hilarious, and promptly shaved his head.

We had had all sorts of plans to go to town for a visit at my parents, then to my In Laws for potluck dinner and gift opening. Well, I spent most of the day, going through hair. If you have ever seen my daughters hair, would would see just how long it is. You can imagine how my mind kept going back to that tin of Dusting Powder that I had used on my chickens just that fall. Well I resisted the urge.

Anyways, I phoned to cancel our visiting plans, but the family wouldn't hear of it. So off to dinner we went, with greeting like "Eeewwwwe! You got Cooties!!!" and "How are you and all your little friends." and "What's a few bugs between family members!" You can imagine all the jokes (all in good fun and humor. I mean sometimes it's laugh or cry, and you just have to laugh). My Brother in law was kind enough to actually give me a hug, and tell me he wasn't worried about a few little bugs. But then, he's pretty much bald. ha ha ha!

The gifts that stand out in my mind from last year were, the hair brushes (yes Santa got the girls lots of them), the Nix Shampoo, and of course, my father getting the kids a microscope so we could look at bugs.

I spent the rest of the holidays at home cleaning and doing mountains and mountains of laundry, and going through hair. From dawn to dusk, I was going through their long, long hair (and picturing myself dosing them with Dusting Powder. lol)

Yes, It was a Lousy Christmas. But we look back this year and laugh, and scratch our heads. (Are you guys scratching now?) hee hee hee!

silkiebantam wrote:We had a fairly recent (last year) occurrence that I'm sure will become a story in future years.

It all started one early Christmas morning. The kids awoke with great excitement. I of course, had been awake for quite sometime, drinking my coffee and reading in blissful quiet to the glow of the tree. Santa brought all sorts of goodies. After rapid paper ripping and cries of excitement, my husband retired back to bed for a while.

I was in the middle of making waffles, when I hear this little voice, "Mommy? My head is itchy. Can you look at it?" "Yes, yes!" And I put breakfast on hold. Well, apparently, I yelled "OH NO!!!!!!" a few minutes later. And then my other daughter says "My head is itchy too!" Come to think of it, my own head, was kinda itchy, but we had dry weather, and I was thinking I had an itchy scalp from that. Next thing I know, I'm bawling like a baby, as we all have head lice. Yes, you can imagine the excitement of that morning! My husband thought it was hilarious, and promptly shaved his head.

We had had all sorts of plans to go to town for a visit at my parents, then to my In Laws for potluck dinner and gift opening. Well, I spent most of the day, going through hair. If you have ever seen my daughters hair, would would see just how long it is. You can imagine how my mind kept going back to that tin of Dusting Powder that I had used on my chickens just that fall. Well I resisted the urge.

Anyways, I phoned to cancel our visiting plans, but the family wouldn't hear of it. So off to dinner we went, with greeting like "Eeewwwwe! You got Cooties!!!" and "How are you and all your little friends." and "What's a few bugs between family members!" You can imagine all the jokes (all in good fun and humor. I mean sometimes it's laugh or cry, and you just have to laugh). My Brother in law was kind enough to actually give me a hug, and tell me he wasn't worried about a few little bugs. But then, he's pretty much bald. ha ha ha!

The gifts that stand out in my mind from last year were, the hair brushes (yes Santa got the girls lots of them), the Nix Shampoo, and of course, my father getting the kids a microscope so we could look at bugs.

I spent the rest of the holidays at home cleaning and doing mountains and mountains of laundry, and going through hair. From dawn to dusk, I was going through their long, long hair (and picturing myself dosing them with Dusting Powder. lol)

Yes, It was a Lousy Christmas. But we look back this year and laugh, and scratch our heads. (Are you guys scratching now?) hee hee hee!

Silky, what a true-life story that is, and a good one at that.It makes me smile because that is EXACTLY how life goes, isn't it? Have you any plans for getting into writing novels? I think you'd be great!

Great! Now I'm itchy.

Fowler wrote:Great! Now I'm itchy.

There's nothing like telling a story that has an effect on someone.

Fowler wrote:Great! Now I'm itchy.

Hmmm......Me too!

Just heard this one. It's some friends of my in-laws.


A girl grew up watching her mother prepare ham every year for Christmas. She made sure to note everything her mother did so that she would know how to do it one day. One of the crucial steps that she noticed was that her mother always cut the end off the ham.

She grew up and had a family of her own and she learned her lessons well. One year her mother finally came to spend Christmas with them. They began preparing the meal and she proudly told her mother, "Yes, and I've always made the ham exactly like you did. I cut the end of and everything and it turns out great every time."

A moment of silence and then,

"Oh Sweety, I used to cut the end off the ham because my roast pan was too small!"