Holly Bloggy Christmas Memories & Traditions: A Funny Childhood Story

Today is the final day of the Holly Bloggy Christmas Bash. And what a great week it's been! I still have a ton of posts to visit, so if I haven't been by your blog or responded to your comment yet, you'll probably see me sometime in the next few days. Also, be sure to stop by here next week to see my final thoughts on the event, as well as some of the winner announcements. And just in case you don't come by, I want to go ahead and thank everyone for linking up at our events this week!

Our last event is Christmas Memories and Traditions, and it's being hosted by Cheryl over at Tidy Mom. Of all the events, I had the hardest time deciding what to do for this one. (Post photos? Share a story? Share a tradition? Etc.) Well, in the spirit of being unique, I finally decided to tell a story. When you think back over the years, there are so many cute or funny stories, it's tough to pick just one to write about.

But after much deliberation, and probably against my better judgement, I've decided to tell one of my dad's favorite memories from when I was a kid at Christmas. And I'll just tell you beforehand, this will either be the funniest story you've heard or the grossest!

To set the stage, my dad is basically an old fashioned guy. He grew up on a farm in a very rural area, and he's basically a country folk through and through. When I was six my mom and dad built a new house. It was a beautiful brick, country style house, with a big front porch and shutters. It was my parent's dream home, and we loved it. I had just turned seven when we had our first Christmas in that house, and it was a very exciting time.

On Christmas Eve as I was sleeping, we had gotten a light snow fall. In fact, this was the only year that it's ever snowed on Christmas at my house. So all in all, it was a picture perfect day.

As you all know, besides getting up and seeing all the presents under the tree and all the stocking stuffers that Santa has left, each kid looks forward to going in the kitchen and seeing the empty glass of milk and the cookie crumbs that Santa left behind, and perhaps a note of thanks from the Jolly Man himself, and remnants of an apple, a carrot, or maybe some lettuce that was left out for Rudolph. I know this always amazed me as a child!

Well, this particular year Santa left something else behind. As I read over the note that Santa had left for me, my dad walked to the back door to look outside. At first, not being aware that it had snowed the evening before, I was thrilled to see the snow on the ground. As I stood there, amazed at the sight of snow on Christmas morning, my dad made the announcement that Santa must have been feeding Rudolph on the back porch, and while Rudolph was eating, he pooped on our back porch! (We actually have this on video tape, and my initial reaction was "Wow!") And then I walked over to the door to look out, and I noticed that Santa apparantly came in with mud on his feet. (The nerve of that man!) Then to top it off, my dad pointed out that there were some snow tracks that Santa had left on the mat at our backdoor.

(Wow! Real footprints and even reindeer poop! If you ever had any doubt in the existence of Santa, there's your evidence. Case Closed.)

Obviously being just seven years old, I was just amazed. My mother, on the other hand, was not impressed. I can still hear her irritated voice saying to my dad, "You better go out there and clean that mess off!" And my brother was fifteen at the time, so his reaction was to laugh and mess with me, suggesting that I should take the reindeer poop for show-and-tell, because quote: "I bet they ain't got none!" (Yeah...I wasn't up for that! Somehow the new doll that Santa had brought seemed like a more appropriate show-and-tell item.)

To this day, my dad still tells this story. In fact, for years he's been telling all the grandkids, nieces, and nephews about the year that Rudolph pooped on the porch, and he had to clean up after him. (Some are amazed, some giggle, and some just say, "Really?")

(Now in case your wondering about the origins of the reindeer poop, here's what actually happened: We had several acres of property, and we had cows and goats at different times while we lived in that house. The previous summer, we had two goats. My dad, being the crazy---and I do mean crazy!----person that he is, went out to our barn and got some goat poop and actually put it out on the porch..just to try to amaze me and see my reaction. Talk about the Magic and Spirit of Christmas! (And I definitely have to give him credit for being creative!) And looking back, I completely understand why my mom was less than thrilled about this! In fact, she'd probably die knowing that I'm telling this story.)

Well, that's my Christmas Memory. I'm not sure if you'll laugh, cry, gag, or call me strange! But whatever your reaction, you can't deny that my story is unique. Either way, thanks for stopping by and reading! I look forward to reading about your favorite memories and traditions over at Tidy Mom.

-Jerri