It was Christmas Eve. My son was about 6 years old and it was getting late. My wife and I still had presents stashed in the attic to put under the tree for the children but he was still wide awake and ready for Santa to come.
I spent 36 years with the Postal Service so this was a very hectic and busy time of year for me and I was getting tired. I told my wife that I would take him upstairs to bed, put on some soft Christmas music, we would talk awhile while listening for Santa's sleigh and he would soon be asleep.
After 10 minutes or so, I felt his hand shaking my shoulder.
"Dad! Dad! Are you awake?" he asked.
"Huh... what? ... Yeah ... sure."
Five minutes later, he would once again be rattling my arm, waking me up. This went on and was like Chinese torture as I would drift off numerous times only to be jarred awake by my wide-eyed, wide-awake, excited little son. My wife could only laugh as he came bouncing down the stairs an hour later followed by his exhausted and sleepy dad. Needless to say, we went with a different plan the next year.