Our aunt was insistent that someone was on the roof and other adults in the room kept guessing that it must be Santa. True, there was some sort of a ruckus going on above our heads but the suspension of disbelief was too great to immediately go to “Santa.” Perhaps it was a burglar and the adults should be less excited and more wary, I thought.  Although I was but the young age of seven, I was fairly certain that the fantasy of Santa Claus was just that. I mean, I had seen how mom behaved when someone was trying to break into the house and it didn’t look like this. The idea that she joyously welcomed someone sneaking into the house with the only evidence supporting the idea that it must be Santa, being that it was Christmas Eve, was too big of a jump. It also didn’t help…