Christmas time is my favorite time of the year. I love the holiday cheer, the decorations, the anticipation of what will appear under the tree. It’s a magical time. But maybe since I knew by age 5 that Santa Claus wasn’t real, he just doesn’t get to headline in our house. We work too hard to give that guy all of the credit. We leave cookies and milk out the night before (I eat the cookies, don’t like milk) and our Elf on the Shelf which is another bane of my existence (see why here) hangs around for weeks before. But on Christmas morning, the kids know anything in their stockings is from Santa Claus and anything under the tree (a live one of course) is from Mommy, Daddy and Gma. And if a high price highly saught after item happens to be small enough to fit into a stocking, be assured it gets put under the tree. I’m just sayin…