It started with an empty sack.
My oldest daughter, Sophia, was maybe 4 that year — just old enough to recognize that something was off. Santa, in all his festive haste, had left his most important accessory behind and it sat next to the tree. My husband and I thought we were being whimsical. It was an inside joke for us. But where we saw a charming tradition unfolding, Sophia saw a plot hole.
She stood there, brow furrowed, eyes darting between the empty red velvet Pottery Barn Santa sack and the cookie plate.
“Oh no! Santa left his bag!” she said, pointing to the bag beside the tree. “He needs it for the rest of the presents.”
She looked genuinely puzzled, not accusatory. She was just doing what her brain had always done best, connecting the dots.
