Tales from Wannabea Farm

Well Christmas has come and gone and I hope everybody had a wonderful time with their families. I am so thankful to our wonderful soldiers standing guard around the world to keep us safe. Wouldn’t it be wonder- ful if they were not needed and that we could have peace in the world instead?

Thinking about Christmases past I remembered a Cajun family that lived near us. There were three wild but adorable little boys, a harassed mother, and a dad that was kind of a shiftless type. He was always playing tricks on people, especially his sons. Many times his jokes seemed cruel to me and this was just such a time. But the boys themselves, now grown, laugh about it.

One of the boys was just horse crazy, always hanging around anywhere there were horses, begging for rides on them. He was constantly nagging his father to buy a horse for him.

Christmas was near and every time they were asked what they wanted Santa to bring them the number three son always answered that he wanted a horse. Nothing else, just a horse. The exasperated mom kept trying to explain every way that she could that Santa just wasn’t able to bring a horse in the sleigh and to ask for something else.

“No”, he replied every time, if I can’t have a horse then I don’t want anything, besides, Santa will find a way.” His belief in Santa was strong.

“Well by golly he isn’t going to get anything” the dad argued with the mother, “maybe it will teach him a lesson”. No matter how hard the mother argued, the father was adamant, “he’s not getting anything.”

Christmas came and the boys came running into the living room, and there under the tree were presents for both of the older boys, but nothing under the tree for the youngest. Santa must have brought a horse and left it outside because he couldn’t bring it in the house. Excitedly he ran outside and all around the house looking for the horse that he believed Santa had left him. He looked every where in vain, even going to the neighbors and asking if they had seen his horse, but no horse was to be found. Surely Santa hadn’t forgotten him, or worse yet, ignored him?

Sadly, shoulders slumping, he came back into the house where his mom tried to comfort him. “Quit babying him”, the father yelled at her, “that’s what he asked for. Anyway, he hasn’t even looked in his stocking yet.”

Turning to look at his stocking, he saw that there was something in it. “Probably an apple”, he thought dejectedly, taking down his stocking. Reaching in, he pulled out a dried up “horse apple”. Looking at it in amazement, he started yelling. “A horse, a horse, he DID bring me a horse!” And out the door he ran looking for his horse while the dad was slapping his knees and laughing at his joke. “Ha ha ha,” he laughed, “he thinks the horse pooped in his stocking and then ran off, ha ha ha, that’ll teach him who to believe.”

But the joke was on the dad after all because that is exactly what the son thought. And he was happy because he believed that Santa really did listen to him.