Christmas Hangover

I was going to dive back into politics this morning. But it's such a tough subject after such a beutiful Christmas, I think I should put that on the back burner for awhile.

Barb and I had a great Christmas, with each other, and with both families. It was great to see Barb's nephew Ellis, and my niece Heather filled with such child-like Christmas enthusiasm. It made me smile from ear to ear and brought back my own childhood memories.

Ellis was so anxious to open his presents I thought he was going to pee his pants. He's way too smart for that though. I watched as he tried to play every angle he could possibly think of to convince his Mom and Dad to let him start. He just couldn't wait. He was going to burst. But he behaved himself.

When the moment finally came he was ripping and tearing. He was really hoping for this quite large plastic dinosaur. "Red Spikee," he called him. It was big! It had a battery pack that could be recharged and the remote control (yes the REMOTE CONTROL) required it's own batteries. It talked. It moved. And I didn't get to see it in action because the main battery pack took until around midnight to charge.

As soon as he saw what it was he had the hugest smile and just started jumping up and down and shouting, "Red Spike Red Spike!" Red Spike!"

Oh no, "some assembly required. This would require help from his Grandpa and a little more patience.

My brother reminded me of how impatient we were at that age. We were given a specific wake-up time, which of course we ignored. But we didn't dare sneak out of our room to peak at the presents in fear of the wrath of Santa.

We would peak our noses into our parents' bedroom and whisper, "Is it time yet?"

"No. Go back to bed," was the most frequent response.

We developed a strategy. I could lay on floor in the hallway with my big toe still in my brother and I's room. Then my brother could daisy chain off my exentended arms, and then my sister could stretch out from my brother's arms. This way we were "technically" still in a bedroom we rationalized.

My sister would peak at the tree and all the presents and report to us her findings. We really didn't gain much knowledge...really none...from this we could only tell that there WERE presents.

Finally it was time and we knew it. We stormed my parents bedroom and dive-bombed onto their bed.

"OK. OK," my Dad would concede, begging for peace. My parents would demand just a couple of minutes to wake up, maybe get something to drink, get themselves situated to watch us goofballs. And there it was.

My presents were to the left of the tree, Karen's were to the right, and Doug's were around the fireplace. Karen liked to rip and tear and was done in three-seconds. I was slow about it and liked to watch everyone else. Doug was somewhere in-between, always logical.

One of my favorite gifts this Christmas was being able to watch Ellis, and Karen and Jamie's daughter Heather. To see their unbridled exhuberance and genuine excitement was a treasure to behold.