Four year-old innocence :My eyes open and it is still dark. I slide out of bed and run down the corridor. I stop outside the glass doors into the living-room. I can see the lights of the tree twinkle. I shiver. What if HE is still in there?
I push the door open and am dazzled with the array of toys under the tree. I find my gift. I love it. It is just what I wanted. I notice that the bed-sheet in my doll's cot is just like the one on my own bed. I notice that the bars on the cot are made from sticks similar to the ones my father gave me to play with only a week ago when he was working in the shed. I wonder why Daddy never tried making a cot for me out of that stuff.
But how could he? He's not Santy.
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