We had just returned to our new home from a Christmas Eve dinner with my husband's family. It was very late, but we wanted to exchange at least one gift with each other before we went to bed.
As I gathered up our gifts and snuggled on the couch, waiting on my dear husband to come from the kitchen bearing hot chocolate, I heard a noise.
This noise came from the fireplace.
"David," I said, "There is something in the fireplace."
Now, it was almost midnight Christmas Eve.
He came in the living room and responded, "Very funny. I guess it's Santa Claus."
"I'm serious," I said, insulted that he would think I was making this up. " There is something in there, behind the glass doors, I can hear it."
And then he heard it too. He got the big flashlight and flicked it on, right at the glass door.
Up popped this funny little creature with the biggest eyes I've ever seen.
"It's a flying squirrel!" My husband exclaimed. "I guess he fell down the chimney."
He took off his jacket, opened the glass door, threw said jacket over the squirrel and toted him outside.
I don't know if he was a lookout paid by Santa, checking to see if we were being naughty or nice, or a squirrel burglar waiting to jump the old guy, or if he just wanted to see what it would feel like to play Santa.
But he really was cute!
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