It’s not too often that Santa Claus is free to come to your kitchen on a dark and stormy night. (Sarah Simpson/Citizen)

Sarah Simpson column: Sign me up, Santa!

Stormy night results in the ultimate Santa surprise

So I’m mailing it in this week. It’s our last paper before Christmas and I’m probably very busy doing other very important seasonal things but I wanted to share with you my son’s very first letter to Santa Claus from four years ago. (See what I did there? Mailing it in… letter to Santa…. clever right? Hey, I try.) So without further ado, please enjoy this Flashback Friday edition of the Bright Side:

Dear Santa,

My name is [withheld because I’m a kid that didn’t get to pick that his mom happens to write newspaper stories for the general public] and I just recently signed up for your service. I am nearly five months old and wanted to ensure we establish a personal relationship early on as we’ll be doing business annually from here on out.

Let’s get right to it, Santa.

This year I would like, from you, a box. It needs to be a sturdy box because I’m not the best at sitting up on my own yet and I intend to lounge inside the box so I’ll need a good backrest.

Please wrap it. Half the fun will be unwrapping it to find out what’s inside.

Speaking of inside, may I please have some crinkly paper. Please make it non-toxic and hold up to drool because I do plan to eat most of it.

Save the toys this year, Santa. That’s what Grammys are for. Bring them to the older children that are waning in their belief of you. (I know you’re real. I saw you in my kitchen with my dad confirming my application to the program.)

I promise to set out cookies and milk on the Big Night. I can’t guarantee Mom won’t eat the cookies. I’m still nursing and she’s always hungry. You’re safe with the milk though. It makes me fart like a grown man so Mom’ll stay clear of that for sure.

Thank you for listening, Santa. I know you have a lot to do this time of year. And not to fret about the diet. Mom says that’s what the New Year is for.

Love, [my kid]

So how did Santa get into my kitchen the month before Christmas back on Nov. 25, 2014, you ask? Truth be told there was a power outage at the office and us newspaper types were all like “THE SHOW MUST GO ON!”

Given my house at the time happened to be on the same grid as the hospital, it rarely lost power and if it did it was restored quickly. So, the newsroom crew packed up the computers, the servers and everything and moved into my kitchen.

I didn’t know the company had such easy access to Santa. The editor, my husband (he works at the paper, too) and the company’s tech guy, red shirt and all — who came down from way up north (Nanaimo) if you catch my drift — all worked hard to get the paper to the press by deadline.

Aside from setting up computers, I didn’t help them. I was on maternity leave at the time and those early months of first-time parenting were overwhelming enough. Of course they succeeded without me. I mean, they DID have Santa.

From the outside looking in, it was a sight to behold. I couldn’t help but take a couple of photos, one of which we’ll cherish for years to come as our children begin to understand the magic of Christmas.

The paper got published on time, my kitchen-newsroom turned back into my normal kitchen by morning, and my son got signed up for Santa’s services. It was a productive night overall.

And I got to watch it all unfold from the comfort of my couch.

How’s that for a Christmas miracle!

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In case you wondered, he did get exactly what he asked for and he was thrilled. (Sarah Simpson/Citizen)

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