A little Christmas magic

On Christmas Eve, we went to bed with no Christmas tree."Quiet now," shushed Mom. "The angels are singing. See if you can hear them."
She smiled and tucked us in, while Daddy called from the doorway, "Old Santa Claus has a lot of houses to find. ... I sure hope he can remember his way back here! Ho-ho-ho."
Ours was the only home where Santa Claus somehow brought a Christmas tree and then decorated it, complete with pretty balls, tinsel, lights and candy canes. He did all of this without waking any of us. It was a real live miracle on Christmas morning, proof that Old Saint Nick was real! The beautiful Christmas tree filled our home with a magical glow, which happily overshadowed the matter of the small pile of presents under the tree.
One year, Daddy announced that we should begin now to get our own tree and even put it up in the stand, to help Santa. Santa would still decorate it for us, Daddy assured us, while we slept. My mother got up, went into the kitchen, and began slamming pots and pans around. I'm certain my parents had barely closed their eyes each Christmas morning when we kids burst into their bedroom, where we all waited while Daddy went out to "see if Santa Claus came," quietly plugging in the Christmas tree lights. When we came out and got our first glimpse of the tree, we all stood together, in joyous awe.
Years passed and we began helping Daddy put on the Christmas tree lights, too, to help Santa. Eventually, we began decorating the entire tree ourselves ... to help Santa, of course, but always on Christmas Eve
Each Christmas Eve, Dad read the Christmas Story from Luke: the star, the angels, the shepherds, the manger with Joseph, Mary and little Jesus, among the animals. During high school years and even for years after, friends came by to spend Christmas Eve with the Joneses, which my parents said was the "Christmas spirit." Everyone took turns choosing Christmas carols for us to sing, and the little ones ended the evening by setting out the traditional thank you for Santa of Christmas cookies and eggnog.
"Mamma," we called out one year, "Daddy thinks Santa would like a glass of wine this year, instead of eggnog." Mother chuckled and sent us out with a pretty little glass of wine. When we were much older, Dad would go over to Santa's cookies and eggnog [or wine] late in the evening, calling out, "Ho-ho-ho," and winking at us. He sang Christmas songs about Jolly Old Saint Nicholas year-round, too.
I recall a cold evening in Virginia when my parents were trying to conserve the oil we used for heat. Mom, dad, and we three kids [before number four!] huddled on the kitchen floor in front of the open oven door, sharing the warmth. Daddy said we could choose songs and sing, so my sister and I chose Christmas songs, and a familiar happiness filled us as we sang.
Then 3-year-old Tommy spoiled it all by requesting, "Look Out the Way for Old Dan Tucker," definitely not a Christmas song. We protested, but my parents ruled that it was not required to be a Christmas carol, so we should all sing it. As we sang "Old Dan Tucker," Tommy leaped to his feet and danced like crazy for us. We laughed and laughed as we sang by the oven on a cold winter's evening.
The magic, which we came to associate with God's love, lasted year-round. The words are in the old songs my dad sang to us: "All God's children better say their prayers, 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight!!"
I wish you and the little ones in your world happy, magical holidays.