Apparently, when I was a little girl, I used to misbehave. A lot.
And I apparently knew it too because on December 1st I would start asking, "Am I being good? I am being, right?" And my mother would humor me and say, "Oh yes, you are being a very good girl."
At times during December, I would act out and my mother, not knowing how to handle my tantrums, would call Santa Claus. She would pick up the phone, pretend to dial, and proceed to have a conversation with Santa Claus.
"Santa? Santa? It's Annie's mother. She is very very very bad. Very bad girl!"
I would completely freak out and beg her hang up the phone. Then I would try to hang up the phone myself. Then I would get a beating. And it would always end with a promise from me to behave so Santa Claus would leave me presents like he did all the good boys and girls.
This repeated itself throughout the month of December. But in the end, Santa Claus always brought me some cool presents.
Well, except for the year that he left me a box filled with dirt and a stick. But that's a post for another day.