As Christmas decorations appeared in town, our parents called my two younger brothers and me together. At first, I thought someone had died, because I had never seen my parents look so sad. My brothers and I stood waiting for the awful news.

Mom hugged me as she murmured, “Christmas is going to be different this year. We won’t be having a tree or presents. We can barely afford food.” Dad, resting on the couch, beckoned(招手示意)the boys into his arms. “Things will change when I get back to work.”

My family was poorer than dirt. Dad, the only bread-earner in our family, worked in a coal mine. However, soon after returning to work at the end of a long strike, Dad was hurt in a rock fall that broke bones in his foot. Lying on the couch with the swollen foot high on pillows, he didn’t talk or smile much. There was little to smile about. No work, no income.

At nine years old, I mothered my younger brothers: Rodney, aged six, and Stevie, three. We shared a small bedroom. That night, after our parents’ announcement, we talked.

Rodney began. “Em, did you see how sad Mommy and Daddy looked? I thought Mommy was gonna cry.”

“Me, too. Daddy’s foot’s … this big” whispered Stevie, holding out his arms.

“Yeah ... We’re in hard times,” I said. “It makes Mommy and Daddy sad.”

“But we don’t have to be sad,” I added, hoping to brighten the mood.

“Since there are still several weeks to go, maybe we can do something to cheer them up,” I said with overdone enthusiasm. The boys proposed, “We can take the money from our piggy bank ... earn some more … and surprise them with gifts!”

“I can run errands(跑腿)for Aunt … em … and neighbors to earn money,” I offered.

“Yeah,” Rodney added, “Stevie and I can return bottles and save the deposit money ... instead of buying candy!” He pushed Stevie gently with his elbow.

“Yeah!” Stevie clutched his hands together.

We had a plan!

Until they nodded off, I coached my little brothers (especially Stevie) in ways to guard our secret. “Don’t talk about it during the day.”

We awoke in the morning, transforming from sad children to the secret agents on an important mission!

On Christmas morning, we hurried into the living room and handed the gifts to Mommy and Daddy.

One winter Sunday, my little sister, Colleen, and I built the greatest snowman ever. We gave him a carrot nose, beautiful hat, cozy scarf and gloves. He was a masterpiece（杰作）.

The next morning when looking outside, we smiled lovingly at him over our meal. We gave him a high five as we passed by on our way to school. A lot of kids went past our house, so he was the hot topic at our school that morning. It was our pride！

The day dragged on until finally we could rush home. But as our yard came into sight, we saw something wrong. The snowman was gone！We only found a broken stick here, a torn glove there and balls of snow everywhere. Worst of all, the snowman’s once-proud carrot nose lay limp（无力的）and half-eaten.

What had happened？We were both astonished and angry. But then, we were only kids, who wouldn’t have anything take away our happiness. Actually we knew only one thing: Our snowman would rise again. And so we rebuilt him.

The next day we came home to find another mess on the front lawn（草坪）. For the rest of the week, the destruction was repeated daily. Each afternoon we’d return to find our snowman had fallen apart, and then we built again.

By Saturday morning, we had a plan. We borrowed a really big bucket （水桶）from Mom, filled it with water and left it outside. The next morning. it was frozen solid. We packed snow all around the ice block as the base （底座）of the snowman. Then we built the other parts of it once again The trap was set, and we wailed for the snowman bullies（破坏者） to come

On Monday morning, hiding behind the window, we soon saw what we were waiting for

Seeing their pained look, we couldn’t help laughing

He woke suddenly and completely. It was 4 a. m. at Christmas, the hour when his father had always called him to get up and help with milking the cow. Strange how the habit of his youth was with him still, even his father had been dead for 40 years. The magic of Christmas for him was a long childhood past, and he was wondering why he felt so awake when his mind went back to his teenage years.

He was 15 years old then and still on his father’s farm. A few days before Christmas, he heard what his father was saying to his mother.

“Mary, I hate to call Rob in the mornings. He’s growing so fast, and he needs his sleep. I could manage alone.”

“Well, you can’t, Adam.” His mother replied. “Besides, he isn’t a child anymore. It’s time to take his turn.”

When he heard these words, something in him woke: his father loved him so much as had never been thought before. Now that he knew so, there would be no more lying in the mornings waiting to be called. He got up and pulled on his clothes.

On the night before Christmas, he lay thinking about the next day. They were poor, and most of the excitement was in the turkey raised themselves and the mince pies made by his mother. His sisters made presents, and he always saved and bought something for parents.

However, he wished, that Christmas he was fifteen, and that he had a better present for his father than before. He looked out of the window and saw Dad working in a stable. Then a thought struck him: why should he not give his father a special gift out there in the stable? He could get up earlier, quietly go into it and get all the milking done. Then when his father went in to start the milking, he’d see it all done.

He had woken up twenty times in the night, looking at his watch for a proper time to start.

He went back in his bedroom with only one minute to jump into bed before hearing his father get up.