"Hush, elephant in the china shop," you hissed when Johnny, who was usually very careful, almost tore down a wooden hanger with a huge bag.

Your children were sleeping on the second floor waiting for Santa, and you and John were of the same opinion that destroying their dreams at such an early age would be inhumane and immoral on your part.

That's why McTavish, dressed up in a Santa Claus costume, crept into the living room, now and then straightening his beard falling from his face and grunting under the weight of gifts heaped on his shoulder. He probably did this because of his inherent drama, and not because of the real weight of the toys.

"Watch the stairs. Knowing these weasels, they are definitely not sleeping, but only pretending," he whispered, going into the living room. Putting the bag on the floor, the man began to take out the gifts wrapped in holiday paper, laying them out under the tree.

Your gaze was fixed on the stairs, as your husband ordered, but what you did not expect was that the children, who were supposed to be sleeping sweetly, suddenly ran out of the kitchen, bursting into the living room with loud screams.

"Oh, fu-" John whispered, clearing his throat and straightening up to his full height, lowering his voice: "Ho-ho-ho, have you behaved well this year, children?"

There was an awkward silence before one of your children, clearly unconvinced by the fake Santa's game, grimaced.

"Dad, at least you'd try," the kid said with a sigh.

The actor from MacTavish was a lousy one, but as a father he was at least much better.