and I decided to enter! Here is Susanna's contest info. My submission is below.
If you have the time, you are welcome to vote beginning Monday, December 16 and running through
Wednesday, December 18
The Contest: Write a children's story about a Holiday Mishap, mix-up, miscommunication, mistake, or potential disaster (a la Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer :)). Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate, but is not to exceed 350 words not counting the title (aren't I being generous?! :) It can be as short as you like, but no more than 350!) Did the dog knock over the Christmas Tree? Did little Johnny's costume get grape juice all over it moments before the holiday pageant? Did the menorah go missing? Did travel arrangements get snarled or miscommunicated? Did Santa's sleigh have to make an emergency landing? The field is wide open! Have fun! (And because so many people have mentioned this, the story does not have to be funny! You can have a holiday mishap that is serious or sweet or mysterious... Please don't feel that you have to go the humor route! Also, because a number of people have mentioned it this time, no art notes please.)
Post: Your entry should be posted on your blog between now and Friday December 13 at 11:59 PM EST and your post-specific link should be added to the link list below which will remain up through Sunday December 15. (There will be no WYRI or PPBF this week.) If you don't have a blog but would like to enter, please copy and paste your entry into the comments below. (If anyone has trouble commenting, which unfortunately happens, please email me and I'll post your entry for you!)
The Judging: My lovely assistant(s) and I will narrow down the entrants to 6-12 finalists (depending on the number of entries) which will be posted here on Monday December 16 for you to vote on for a winner. The vote will be closed on Wednesday December 18 at 5 PM EST and the winners will be announced on Thursday December 19. Whoever gets the most votes will be first and so on down to sixth place. Remember, judging criteria will be kid appeal/friendliness, originality/suitability of mishap, quality of story, and quality of writing.
The Real Santa...A True Story
Sharon P. Stanley
The year I turned 10, it snowed on Christmas Eve… a lot. We rarely have a white Christmas, so when we do, things come to a screeching halt. It was l966, and my mother happily wrapped gifts secure in the knowledge all was ready for Santa. Daddy decorated the tree. My brother and I were tucked in bed, dreaming of sugar plums…or in my case, a Kissy Doll.
Kissy was the doll that year. Dressed in red gingham, she stood, arms outstretched ready to “kiss” anyone who squeezed them together. Kissy was all I asked for, so when Ma took her from the box for a test kiss, she almost cried when Kissy would not oblige. It was late and snow was flying, already several inches deep. Kissy had been purchased at Miller & Rhodes downtown, 20 miles from home.
Ever the optimist, Ma called the store hoping someone would answer. The gentleman who did was obviously enjoying a last minute party, jovial spirit sounding in his voice.
“Madam,” he said, “you have my solemn promise, your daughter will wake up with a Kissy doll under the tree tomorrow morning.”
Ma gave him our address, more hopeful than certain this would be the case. She assumed by the time he removed the lampshade from his head, he would not remember it was Christmas, let alone locate a Kissy doll in the six story department store, and deliver it in a raging snowstorm.
The snow fell hard and fast. Soon after 11pm, a yellow cab rounded the corner and slid to a stop barely missing our lamp post. A well dressed gentleman knocked on the door, red-faced from the cold, the office celebration, or both. When he handed her the Kissy doll, bowed deeply and wished her all the joy of the season, Ma did not see a tipsy executive, she saw the real Santa. Needless to say, we shopped at Miller & Rhodes until they closed their doors many years later, and I, that little girl, had the merriest of Christmases.