Even though I realized many years ago the source of the goodies in my Christmas stocking, there is still something quite magical about rummaging through the tiny, tissue wrapped bundles and packages, digging right down to the toe for the orange we all knew was lurking there.

We were forbidden to waken our parents on Christmas morning, and we were also forbidden to touch the tree or open any gifts until they were up and about. One eye open absolutely did not count.

Once everyone was up and suitably attired - Christmas morning was a fairly formal occasion at our house, requiring both robe and slippers - we assembled in the living room and our father would oversee the handing out of the presents, or "playing Santa" while our mother made coffee.

With the passing of the years, I have come to value the coffee part of the ritual, as well.

The reason behind the "Rules for Christmas Morning" - rules that were obeyed absolutely throughout our growing-up years, I might add - was quite simple.

One notable Christmas day, when we were much younger, we arose before our parents and attacked the tree. This wasn't unusual, and normally one or both of our parents would have soon joined us. What made this particular event noteworthy was the gifts we opened, and what we did with them.

We were living in Aklavik at the time, and my sister and I had arisen very early - about 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. I'm told.

The rooms were silent and dark. In fact, the darkness was no clue as to the time, it was dark until after eight o' clock during the winter in the high Arctic.

We quietly entered the living room and saw all the packages under the unlit tree.

We were enchanted with the first packages we opened, and being thoughtful of our parents need for sleep, we tiptoed out into the apartment hallway to play with the gifts some well-intentioned relative had provided.

As memory serves, the parcels contained farm equipment, and jeeps.

We didn't think they were too macho for us. We had never even heard that word then. All we knew was that our amazing new jeeps, friction toys that surged forward for a great distance after you pulled them backwards several times, made the most blood curdling noise.

The jeeps came equipped with very loud sirens, just like the air-raid sirens in the John Wayne movies! The harder you pulled the wheels back against the floor, the faster the jeeps rushed screaming down the hallway, and the louder the sirens.

I truly don't remember what happened. That is one of the benefits of being very young - some things fade with time. The repercussions can't have been too traumatic for us though, because aside from the new and rigorously enforced "Rules for Christmas Morning" nothing much happened.

I do remember my parents yawning a lot that Christmas, and to our wisely silent chagrin, the glorious sirens were forever silenced.

...and where would we be without these collectors' goodies. With such a great selection to choose from, you are sure to find a team or Disney stocking to suit your little or big fan.

I don't know how other families decide what to put in their Christmas stockings, but there was a certain ritual about not only what our stockings contained, but the order in which items were added to the socks.

As well, we didn't have fancy embroidered, beaded, velvet or satin Christmas stockings. We borrowed some winter work socks form my dad. You know the kind - the thick grey woolen ones with red and white stripes around the top and outlining around the toe and the heel.

We used Dad's socks because they were the biggest ones we could lay hands on...and boy did they stretch to hold a lot of stuff! It certainly seemed so to us, at any rate.

On Christmas morning when we tiptoed out of our rooms, ever mindful of "The Rules", there would be the tree, its branches unlighted, presents stacked underneath, some having appeared mysteriously in the night.

There on the mantle was our prize - or as often as not sitting on the floor beneath it so as not to tear the stocking with the weight of its burden.

I would have loved to have found one of these hanging on the mantle come Christmas morning.

These adorable dog-motif Christmas Stockings also come with the images of a Jack Russell terrier, an adorable Dachshund, a Yorkie/Yorkshire Terrier and the sweetest little Sheltie.

...but then, melted chocolate wouldn't have washed out as easily, either. There were always a few loose chocolates down near the toe, in addition to some chocolate coins. In their shining gold foil, they were one of the must-have goodies.

It had a lovely solid wood mantle piece, and with the electric logs plugged in and glowing, it really looked quite realistic.

Even though we moved to a new posting at least every two years, if not more often sometimes, certain special things always traveled with us - a few treasured knick-knacks and pictures.

I would hang these lovely stockings on any mantle - and it would be hard to take them down after Christmas, they are so lovely.

The Dalmation goodies were just too cute to leave out, so though they are not all stockings, they might gladden the heart of someone on your list.

Not every Christmas stocking must be hung by the chimney.

Some were meant to adorn the legs of a cute "Mrs. Claus", or hang on her charm bracelet.

The lovely satin stocking reminds me of a my favorite crazy quilt. It was always placed on my bed whenever we visited my mother's parents. Granny knew it was my favorite, and she delighted in telling me where all the bits of fabric had come from in the beautiful handmade quilt. I still call her pointing out each piece...

"..and this was a piece of Grampa's old suit. I cut it down for a suit for Uncle Bud when he went to high school...and this was a piece of Mrs. Oostrink's satin evening gloves that she wore to the New Year's Ball in..."