The Naughty ListShe never really believed in Santa. She does now. by ErinPage, Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. I never believed in Santa, well almost never. Not that I was ever a good little girl mind you. Still, Santa was pushed on me as a child. My parents force fed me old Claymation cartoons like Rudolph and Santa Clause is coming to town. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Christmas season, there is definitely something magical about it. Why my parents got all nostalgic with different Christmas movies was beyond my comprehension. I remember one Saturday morning bright and early my parents dressed me in an itchy red dress with red tights. The little black patten leather shoes hurt my feet something awful. They were taking me to see Santa at the mall. They were so excited. Their eyes twinkled and they couldn’t stop smiling and telling me how excited they were.  They constantly tried bribing me to get me to act the way they wanted. This just felt like another one of those tools. Yeah, I’m damaged and bitter about it. They must have asked me a thousand times what I wanted for Christmas. I told them and sure enough that’s the toy I got Christmas morning. The only problem was I had stumbled across all the gifts in moms closet a few weeks before Christmas. The next year I tested the myth by mailing a letter to Santa, telling him what I wanted for Christmas. I told no one and wasn’t’ surprised or even disappointed I didn’t get what I had asked for. The creepy old man who watches you when you’re sleeping, to scare young children into behaving in a particular way; well it’s just grooming us to be sheep. He didn’t get twelve months of probation when he broke into MY house. Yeah, I was over it. Fast forward a few years to when I was fifteen. My dad was in the Marine Corps. So, growing up we moved around a lot. My personality style was more the lone wolf type so I never really had friends. The Local VA had put up a sign looking for people who would babysit Christmas eve for mom’s who worked third shift while their husbands were deployed. It was suggested by my juvenile probation officer that I maybe show some initiative and “Volunteer”, to show that I was turning over a new leaf. It was also going to take three months off my probation, but no need to think about that. I took a class on Babysitting and another on CPR and signed up. Somehow, I ended up watching my aunt Glinda’s kids. I mean I was surprised to learn she was in the program. I had never thought that maybe someone I knew needed help. Anyway, she was working third shift and her husband was deployed to Iraq. It was actually really nice to have her kids. I already knew them, and they really were little angels. They were all full of the yes ma'ams and yes pleases. They said thank you and picked up their own messes without being told. Hell, they cooked me dinner. They even got ready and put themselves to bed. This was going to be a super easy fifty bucks. That night really did have a Christmassy feel to it. The house was modestly decorated. They had a real Christmas tree with colored blinking lights and homemade ornaments. The smell of pine wafted through the house every time a gust of wind blew. I looked out the window and the world had been transformed. The snow was still falling steadily. They lived in an old farmhouse that needed much repair. The smell and heat from the wood stove made me feel warm and comfortable. With the wind gusting the house made all kinds of strange noises and it made it difficult to fall asleep. It felt much more spooky than it did festive once the lights were out. That night while I was sleeping, I was awakened by a loud noise in the living room. As I lay there listening, I could hear the wind whistling and the squeaky old floors groaning with what sounded like heavy foot falls. Quick as a flash I got up out of bed and retrieved the Louisville slugger I had received for my eighth birthday. I never did like baseball, but I found the bat comfortin