Because I’m still fighting this flu/bronchitis thing, I’ve been coming home from work and crashing for a nap for a couple of hours. I was in that weird state between sleep and wake when I heard “Calvin” outside my bedroom in the hall.
“Santa, you’re sentenced to the lava pit. Any last words?”
Santa: “Merry Christmas everyone. Try to have a Merry Christmas without me.”
Then assorted sounds of wailing and crashing. I’m guessing Santa went into the lava pit.
So at that point I’m up and awake. But you know, I have this short term memory problem, so by the time I stumble out my door I’ve forgotten about Santa. Until I step on him. Then I’m about ready to send him to the lava pit too. He was a little plastic pencil topper and he hurt!
I’m still not sure why Calvin sent Santa to the lava pit, but he’s definitely inherited my warped sense of humor.