Wednesday, December 03, 2008


Under the guise of a reward for a good day at school on Monday, we pulled all of the Christmas boxes out of storage and tore into them like a pack of hungry wolves.  The cinnamon and cloves and anise immediately filled the air.  And glitter, somehow, was magically everywhere.  It was like we were suddenly living in a snowglobe.  And as we pulled out our traditional decorations and giggled over some of the homemade trinkets from years past, the kids started stacking up the Christmas books and movies and CDs in the order they intended to pour through them.  Oh, did I forget to mention that part?  Yes, well, you see, we...well...we hold them hostage -- the stories and songs, not the kids.  

They get boxed back up every year along with any Christmas-themed stuffed animals and don't see the light of day again until the weekend after Thanksgiving (again, just to be clear, not the kids).  We don't tell any of the Christmas stories or even hum a single Christmas song note until the next December either, so it's like opening a giant nitrogen filled santa-in-the-box when the season finally rolls around again.  Christmas literally explodes into our home, erupting from the green and red plastic tubs and filling every nook and cranny of our lives until the tree finally (and much to our dismay) comes down after el Dia de Los Reyes Magos on January 6th. 

The kids, you see, are cursed -- having inherited from me (and I come by it honestly, too) a vigorous (some -- Amy -- might say fanatical) love of all things Christmas.  

The very thought of December peeking right around the corner made what should've been a very long relaxing weekend just drag on and on and on for me.  And at the very moment we changed the calendars on Monday morning, down came the fall leaves and berries wreath, away went the colorful gourds and Indian corn, and gone is all evidence that we actually do NOT live directly on the North Pole.  

I immediately reset my radio stations to the all-Christmas-music-all-the-time ones that drive Amy absolutely loopy.  We sing Rudolph and Santa Clause is Coming to Town to and from school.  We watch every black-and-white movie we can find and are totally sold by the ABC Family 25 Days of Christmas marketing campaign.  We tape any and all Christmas movie program guides to the fridge, have written our Christmas lists in triplicate, and wear Santa hats, elf hats, and reindeer antlers as part of our everyday attire.

So, you see, you'll understand now why it came as such an utter, and I don't believe it's an overexaggeration to say, terrifying shock to hear our beautiful little girl reach into the DVD pile for a movie last night and holler excitedly at the top of her lungs, "MAMA, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE CAN WE WATCH THE CORPORATE EXPRESS NOW?!?!?!?"


amazonfm said...

I think a love of Christmas is perfectly normal, and a love of all things Christmas is also perfectly acceptable. My fav film is that one where the little guy is warned that 'he will shoot his eye out.' and I love love love Eartha Kitt's risque 'Santa Baby.'

saia and chago said...

Oh, yeah, love both of those, too! And thank you for confirming for me that I really don't need therapy for this one. For lots of other stuff, yes, but not for this one. :P