During most of my early childhood, Mama Mia and I lived with my grandma. She watched me while Mama Mia worked nights as a nurse.
Like most kids, bedtime was not my favorite time of the day, but on Christmas Eve, Grandma had a special trick to get me nestled under cozy covers. All she had to do was tune the radio to our local AM station where they broke into the broadcast every few minutes with a realtime update of Santa's location over the United States courtesy of Norad.
I'd bide my time as Santa and his reindeer cruised their way across the Atlantic, over Boston and the rolling prairies of the Midwest. Every so often I'd stretch my ear to catch Santa's location, for knowing exactly where Santa was gave me the opportunity to eek every possible minute out of my freedom from the confines of my bed.
The minute I heard Santa was over the Rockies?
Zoom!
Skitter!
Jump!
Plop!
Dive under!
Head on the pillow!
Eyelids shut!
Commence pretend snoring!
These days I am older and wiser, but I refuse to grow up. I'm still gonna follow Santa's progress. But Santa is a modern kinda guy who keeps up with social media to find out who's been naughty and nice.
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