"Are you looking at photo albums again?" Sam asked his wife as he sat down next to her on the couch. He'd just been doing a crossword puzzle in the kitchen, but had lost interest in the four-letter question for fire. You'd think he'd know all the synonyms, being a former firefighter, but nothing had fit.

"Why not? It's raining again and there's nothing interesting on TV," she replied with a smile, turning the page.

"Why aren't you reading a book?" he immediately retorted, glancing curiously at the book she was looking at.

"Fiona's coming tomorrow to take me to the library. I've already finished all the others," she answered, completely absorbed in the pictures in the book on her lap.

"You are and always will be a bookworm," he remarked with a grin, as he saw a picture that must have been taken at the dining table with Liam, showing them all together. "What are you looking at?" he asked her, no longer able to hide his curiosity.

"Christmas 28 years ago," she said, turning the page again so that his gaze fell upon a photo of the twins sitting in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, their eyes shining as they gazed at the presents.

"Emi and Rory were so sweet," he remarked. It had seemed so long ago, and now Rory had a family of his own.

"Wasn't that also the year you were supposed to play Santa Claus for the twins?" Penny suddenly remembered. The book was finished anyway, and she looked up at her husband.

"Oh, right. That was a night," Sam replied with a smile and a soft chuckle.

"Will you tell me about it?" Penny asked him as she put the book down and sank into the pillows to get comfortable. Sam immediately did the same.

I remember it like it was yesterday. You had the day off to help Fiona with the final preparations for our Christmas dinner that evening at their house." I was still at the station, but just about to clock off, when Liam came rushing in through the door, completely flustered. Since I had just come from the kitchen, I saw him over the railing dash in at the bottom of the entrance hall.

"Dad! Dad! Help!" he shouted frantically as he spotted me upstairs and rushed up the stairs. "Dad, we need your help," he said again as he hurried back, and his whole demeanor had already set off alarm bells in my head.

"Calm down. Is something wrong with Emi or Rory?" I asked him immediately, so we wouldn't waste any more time. To my annoyance, he nodded with an almost pained expression.

"You won't believe this, but they've decided to stay up tonight to see Santa Claus," he told me then. The adrenaline drained from my body so quickly that all I could do was roll my eyes in exasperation at how upset I'd been over something so trivial.

"I remember you guys did that too. Only you were a lot younger. Mairi, at least," I recalled. Rory and Emi were already six.

"And yet you've taken away my belief in Santa Claus," Liam immediately retorted, offended, because he realized that I no longer took him, and especially his panic, quite as seriously as before.

"Me? Why?" I immediately demanded. I really did play my part well back then, didn't I?

"Because you were the one who dressed up that night," he replied right away, and even though he was grown up now, I suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, as if I'd been caught. I remembered thinking of you and your words from back then. How important it had been to you that they wouldn't lose their belief in Santa Claus at that age, and now I was supposed to be the one to blame for the fact that at least Liam had lost it? But most of all, I wondered why I was only finding this out now.

"How did you come to that conclusion?" I initially denied it, but Liam just gave me an annoyed look.

"Dad?! Mum told me. I asked her the next morning why Santa Claus looked and sounded like you," he then informed me. Keep in mind: after almost 25 years!

"That old tattletale. I thought I'd been so convincing," I muttered to myself, offended, but at that moment I also realized that you probably hadn't told me on purpose so as not to disappoint me, because I had been so proud of my convincing performance. "What did she tell you then?" I asked him curiously, knowing how much you had wanted to preserve the children's childlike faith.

"That Santa Claus urgently needed to move on because his reindeer were so scared by Norman Price's pickle tree, and so he arranged for you to put the presents under the tree and that he even lent you the costume for that," Liam answered me seriously, but the twitch at the corners of his mouth clearly betrayed how funny he found the story today. In any case, it had stuck with him, and that was saying something. Although I could still remember Norman's latest idea that year very well.

"And you believed that?" I asked him, incredulous, and Liam shrugged.

"Why not? We're in Pontypandy, and that pickle tree was really nasty. Besides, I was only five," he defended himself, and I had to agree with him on all points as I chuckled quietly. "Anyway. You have to play Santa," he said then, and my amusement vanished instantly.

"What? Why me again? You said yourself that you recognized me. Then Emi and Rory will too," I protested in frustration, and I certainly didn't want to spend the rest of my life listening to Liam complaining that I had ruined Christmas for his children.

"Not really. Your eyebrows are gray now, too, and if you stuff the coat a little more and change your voice even more, they certainly won't notice anything," he replied with a cheeky grin, patting my stomach with the back of his hand to emphasize what he meant by stuffing it a little. Why did you all have to harp on about the fact that it was becoming increasingly obvious I wasn't getting any younger and was less and less involved in active duty?!

"Why don't you do it yourself?" I grumbled, sulking, and crossed my arms, turning my back on him in a huff.

"Because the kids will notice immediately, just like I did with you back then. Santa Claus is old, and so are you. That fits together much better," our son added, to which I responded with a less than amused, 'Well, thanks a lot!' "Please, Dad!" I felt that desperate look melt my stomach again and sighed. It was awful. I couldn't refuse any of them anything when they wanted it so badly. They must have inherited that heartbreaking quality from you.

"Okay, okay. I'll call your mum and ask her where the costume is. She always kept everything. It's such a shame Peppa Pig isn't fashionable anymore." I would have loved to see my son in it.

"Great. Thanks, Dad. You have the key. I'll leave the presents in the shed. Midnight then," Liam exclaimed enthusiastically and was already heading back towards the stairs.

"Why so late?" I called after him, and he stopped on the first set of steps to look back at me. Emi and Rory were six. Even if they were allowed to stay up later, they were asleep by 8:30 at the latest, no matter where they were sitting or lying.

"Because I hope the kids are fast asleep and won't notice anything. Besides, Fi and I have a little tradition and..." he began to explain, and from his grin and embarrassed stammering, I knew I definitely didn't want to hear about this tradition.

"Forget it. I don't want to know. I'll be there at 12:15, get the presents, put them under the tree, and be gone," I interrupted, making it perfectly clear that that was all I would do, and then I'd disappear as quickly as possible, not interfering with her parenting, any traditions, or anything else.

"You're the best, Dad!" Liam shouted, skipping down the stairs and disappearing in the next moment.

Luckily, you really did still have the costume in the attic, and after we got back from dinner at Liam and Fiona's, you helped me get dressed and tied my pillow around my waist to fulfill Liam's wish that I look a little plumper. Half an hour later, I drove back to their place, parked the car on a different street, and walked the rest of the way so the twins wouldn't see and recognize our car if they actually woke up and looked out the window.

I got the sack of presents from the shed, which was just as full and heavy as the one you'd given me. But that was no surprise, considering Liam had actually managed to cram in the twins' children's bicycles, which they were due to receive that year.

I gasped softly with every step, a sharp pain in my back as soon as I'd finally shouldered the sack and made my way through the garden to the front door, but I didn't want to have to carry it again. Who knew what might happen to me under the weight of all those presents?

Once I'd finally made it inside, almost silently into the living room where Rory and Emi had actually fallen asleep side by side on the couch, I started as quietly as possible to pull the presents out of the sack and place them under the Christmas tree. It went perfectly, and the children didn't make a peep. Up until then, I'd thought it would be a piece of cake. Then there were only the bicycles left.

"Santa?" I heard Emi's sleepy voice, barely after I'd started pulling on one of the children's bikes, which was stuck by its pedals and handlebars in both the sack and the other bike. I remembered cursing Liam's stupid idea under my breath. Now I glanced at the two of them, and sure enough, my granddaughter looked at me with wide eyes before grabbing Rory by the sweater and shaking him. "Rory, Santa's here!" she whispered to him, not exactly quietly. It wasn't going to be as easy as I'd hoped.

"Ho, ho, ho. What are you doing down here so late? Shouldn't good children be in bed by now?" I turned to them, making sure to speak in as low a voice as possible.

"We were waiting for you," Rory announced excitedly, while Emi jumped off the couch and grabbed a plate from the table to hold out to me.

"Look, Santa! We baked cookies for you," she said, beaming with pride and looking at me so expectantly that I couldn't refuse.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you," I replied, reaching for one of the cookies. As soon as I took a bite, it took all my self-control to keep smiling. The cookies were so hard I would have bet they were from last year. "Mmm...delicious," I said anyway, as I slipped the rest of the cookie into my coat pocket.

"Would you like some milk?" Rory offered, holding out a glass. I would have preferred tea, but the children couldn't know that.

"I'd love some, but I'll have to hurry. There are lots of children waiting for their presents," I told him, taking the glass and taking a sip of milk. I hadn't thought about my stupid beard, so half of it ran down it. I quickly put the glass down and grabbed the tissue box to pull out a few and at least dab the worst of it out of my beard.

"You remind me a bit of our grandpa," Emi said, and the twins giggled, which made me freeze.

"Really? Why?" I asked, puzzled, turning back to the children.

"He's not as fat as you, but just as clumsy," Rory observed, and the two of them giggled even more. Almost exactly as much as you just did.

"I'm not clumsy...and your grandpa certainly isn't either," I immediately defended myself, but realized quickly enough that they couldn't possibly know who I really was, and quickly added the last part.

"But Dad always says that when Grandpa does something funny," Emi said then, and if she hadn't been looking at me so adorablely with her big eyes and head tilted to one side, I might have been a little offended. Still...

"Well, if your dad's going to be that cheeky, he's definitely not getting any presents this year," I remarked, less than thrilled, and turned my attention back to the bicycles. Since they weren't wrapped, just tied with a ribbon, I paused and then turned back to the children. "Now I have to leave again soon, and you two need to go to bed. Otherwise, you won't have any presents under the tree," I warned them, winking and smiling. I didn't want to spoil the surprise and pull the bicycles out of the sack right in front of them.

"Good night, Santa, and thank you so much. We love you." I tell you, my heart almost melted when they both said that and hugged me.

"I love you too," I said out of habit, and unfortunately, in my own voice, because I'd simply forgotten to change it in that moment. They looked up at me with smiles, which made me realize they didn't recognize me for who I really was, and that might have been a little strange. "Um, because I love all the children in the world," I added, a little embarrassed, but again in my deep voice, hoping they hadn't noticed.

Surely, they ran off quickly, and the next moment I heard the patter of their little feet disappearing up the stairs. So I turned my attention back to the bicycles, and as soon as I had freed the first one from the bag and placed it on one side of the Christmas tree, I easily got the second one out of the bag and placed it on the other side.

"Well, that went like clockwork." I jumped when I heard Liam say that behind me, but as soon as I saw him leaning in the doorway with a satisfied smile, I remembered what the children had revealed to me.

"For the children, yes," I replied with a grin, reaching for the gifts bearing his name to put them back in the sack.

"Why are you taking some of the gifts back with you?" he asked me immediately, confused, but I wasn't fazed.

"Because naughty children don't get presents. Especially not when their clumsy dad is playing Santa," I remarked, slinging the sack over my shoulder, having gathered them all.

"Are these mine? Oh, Dad, really?!" he groaned in annoyance, but I just patted him mockingly on the shoulder.

"Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas, my son," I grinned back before heading out the door and quietly closing it, giving him another wink as I watched with satisfaction as he slumped his shoulders and looked after me in frustration.

"That was mean of you, Sam," Penny remarked with a smirk.

"He did get the presents after all," Sam immediately defended himself innocently, and she chuckled softly before getting up to go into the kitchen and make herself some more tea.

"Because I found the bag and brought it to him," she retorted, implying that it certainly wasn't his doing.

"At least he's learned not to say things like that about me behind my back anymore," Sam defended his actions, because he had definitely taught his eldest son a lesson.

"No, he really doesn't anymore. He prefers to say things like that to your face now," Penny reminded him of the impact it had had and that he couldn't handle that any more than hearing such accusations by chance. "But at least you're taking it well. You can't argue with the truth," she added with a smile as she passed the table and noticed the missing word.

"Liam is much more clumsy than I am," Sam defended himself, playing the offended party, as she grabbed a pen and quickly wrote down the word.

"And we know where he got that from, right? And nobody ever made a secret of it," she replied with a smile, putting the pen down again. He grimaced, clearly not amused, before glancing at his crossword puzzle book and secretly having to admit she was right. She had written "Elan", so it was meant in the spiritual way, and it fit. He really could be scatterbrained. He could have come up with that word himself, instead of just going with the obvious.

To be continued...