117. #Christmas Special: How He Gets Your Child To Believe In Santa Clause.
#Christmas Special: How he gets your child to believe in Santa Clause.
Louis: "What's that noise?" you coo to your son as he lays in bed. Both of you look up at the ceiling, hearing the 'stomping' noise again. "Do you think it's Santa?" Your son nods his head and does what he's told, laying under the covers and falling asleep so Santa will know he's been good and give him his presents. You walk downstairs to see Louis coming in from outside, brushing snow off the soles of his shoes. "So, did you hear Santa Clause, too?" He smiles and kisses you. "I hope he believed it...." "Oh, he did."
Niall: Gathering his son in the living room, he gasps and tells him the story of the one time he woke up and saw Santa Clause in front of his own tree, giving him presents! "But shhh, you can't tell Santa Clause I told you this," he tells his young son quietly, patting his back and heading upstairs to his bedroom with him, "You're going to have to stay asleep in your bed tonight, but maybe you will be able to hear him from downstairs." Your son nods, clearly excited, and bounds into bed, waiting for Santa.
Liam: "Santa Clause is real," he says gently, and begins reading the story about Saint Nick. His little girl ends up falling asleep cuddled close to his chest, one of his arms protectively around her sleeping body. He looks up at you when you enter her bedroom and smiles. "I read her the story; she believes." You watch with a happy gleam in your eye as he settles her against the pillows and tucks her in, kissing her forehead and cheeks softly. "Goodnight, sweetie," he murmurs, stroking her hair, "Santa is coming."
Zayn: The children were a bit iffy about it before they went to bed, aged eight and six seeming to be too smart for their own good. But he has a plan, and he goes around eating the cookies and drinking the milk they left out for this Santa Clause. "Are you writing them a note, too?" you ask with a giggle, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist as he scrawls in a handwriting that isn't his. "Yeah. I wished them a Merry Christmas and told them that they got everything they wanted."
Harry: "Now, listen," he says gently on Christmas Eve's night, perched up on the edge of his daughter's bed, "I need you to sleep in your own room tonight, or else Santa won't come." Your daughter was known for sneaking into your bedroom late at night, snuggling up between you and your husband. "Okay? I'll even come in and check up on you, but we're going to have to be quiet." He tickles her collarbones gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Or else someone won't get that toy they wished for...."