Hey all! So here's yet another Sodapop Christmas fic...he's a little tyke in this one, and adorable as always! ;) Oh, and I'm not sure when Dally moves to Oklahoma in the book, but for the sake of this story, it happened when he was very young. Just go with it. :)

Disclaimer: I hate doing this...But I will for you guys. Own nothing. There. Merry Christmas.

MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS!...

AND REVIEW! DON'T BE SCROOGES!

~Rosey

If You Just Believe

Three-year-old Sodapop Curtis stumbled into his mother's bedroom where she was getting ready for a Christmas party she was attending that night with her husband. Mr. Curtis was in the living room with Darry and baby Ponyboy, where they were wrapping some last minute gifts.

Soda waddled over to his mother, who was sitting at her vanity table applying some make-up. When Mrs. Curtis heard the approaching footsteps of her middle child, she turned from the mirror with a smile on her face. "Hello, Sodapop," she beamed.

"Hi Mommy," Soda struggled up onto the bench next to his mother, looking at their reflections in the mirror. "You'we pwetty," he grinned, bouncing up and down on the seat. Though Soda was three years old and talked constantly, he still had that infant trouble with his "R"s.

"Well thank you, sweetie," she smiled, leaning down and kissing her son on the cheek.

Soda winced and wiped some lipstick off his face before facing his mom again. "Mommy?"

"Yes, honey?" she asked, applying some blush.

"Is Santa weal?" Soda asked innocently, poking a cotton ball on the table in front of him.

Oh, dear, Mrs. Curtis thought helplessly. One of the few questions a mother dreads hearing. That and "where do babies come from."

"Mommy?" Soda's voice made her look down at her son again. "Is he weal?"

"Well," she managed a smile. "Of course he is! Where did you hear he wasn't?"

"Dally," the tyke answered, crossing his arms atop the table and resting his chin on them.

"Oh," Mrs. Curtis took a breath. "Dallas." Dally had moved to Oklahoma only months ago with his mother, who seemed to never be home. Dallas was a rough child, and Mrs. Curtis didn't necessarily like Soda spending so much time with him. Darry was old enough now to take care of himself around the New Yorker child, but Soda was only three years old.

"Dally said Santa wasn't weal and I was dumb to still believe in him," Soda pouted, picking up his mother's perfume and swashing it around in the bottle.

"What?" Mrs. Curtis was shocked and she put an arm around her little son. "Baby, you're not dumb. Don't let anybody tell you that you are. And Santa is as real as you want him to be," she added with a smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Soda asked, moving into a position where he was sitting on his knees.

"It means Santa is real to the children who want to believe in him and the more you believe in him the more Christmas spirit you have," Mrs. Curtis replied, smiling.

Soda bit his lip and raised his eyebrows. "That sounds like something you'd say to twy to covew something up," he said, suspicious.

Mrs. Curtis smiled and kissed his forehead before ruffling his hair. "Honey, of course Santa is real. He's Christmas spirit. And that's as real as you can get."

"Oh. Good!" Soda beamed, leaping down onto the floor. "I thought so. Dally's a liaw." He stood there, bouncing up and down on his toes before shrugging. "Okay. Bye mommy!" he smiled, prancing out of the room.

Mrs. Curtis smiled and watched him go, shaking her head. "Merry Christmas, Soda honey. Keep believing. Never grow up."

D'aww! Isn't baby Soda cute? Well I have this idea for a Soda chapter book next so...yes. Keep an eye out for it. ;)

Review? Maybe?

~Rosey