Calendars are for sissies.

YAY! Christmas Pictures!

Excuse me? What’s that?

What do you mean it’s been two weeks since Christmas? What is this jibber jabber about every other blogger in the world already having completed their “Christmas review”? What’s that you say? Looking at random pictures of someone else’s kids opening presents is like Blogger Kryptonite?

Phooey, I say. Phooey.

(I’ve had shit to do, back up off me.)

We told the kids Saturday night that they would be opening presents in the morning. The two boys of course immediately began jockeying for “we might as well just open them now”. But I insisted we would wait for morning, as I was hoping to create at least some of that Christmas Morning anticipation.

Sunday morning, long before the sun would come up, I was awaken by an 8 year old standing silently at my bedside, staring at me. (That shit never ceases to freak me out. Or wake me up, somehow.)

“Mom,” he whispered at the first sign of eyelid fluttering, “isn’t it time to open presents?”

I rolled over and kicked my husband, giving him the universal signal for “it’s time to get your ass out of bed”. He responded with a grunt and a groan and what sounded a lot like whimpering. I kicked him again and threw in an elbow to the back of the head for good measure.

“What… fuck… what time… pigs in a blanket… what’s wrong?”

“It’s time to open presents. Get up.”

“Oh my God it’s still DARK out. Buddy… go get some cereal… little bit… just give me a little….”

Jared, get up. He wants to open presents. It’s Christmas morning!”

And just like that the spell was cast.

Jared rolled out of bed dragging Emma behind him, repeating much the same conversation with her that he’d just shared with me. We gathered up the cameras and the camcorders and the coffee as Devin staked out his “spot” in front of the tree. Jared turned on the Christmas music on the digital cable channel while I explained to Devin the difference between lots of two year old trinket gifts vs. less boxes but Holy Mary Mother Of God more expensive eight year old gifts.

We all gathered in the “formal” living room with the tree and the green and red wrapped packages and began sorting the stacks. The kids started out taking turns, until Devin’s patience grew thin with his sister’s painstakingly slow removal of the paper (because “it’s just paper Emma! Just rip it off so we can SEE!”)

When every gift was opened (including two surprise I Know We Weren’t Getting Each Other Anything gifts between Jared and I) and every Show Mommy What You Got picture taken, the kids scurried off to their respective corners to begin playing with their new treasures.

I ran to the phone and began making my annual round of Merry Christmas phone calls. Of course, it was about 7:30 in the morning back in Iowa – and the 23rd of December – but none of the grandparents on the other end seemed to mind participating in our fantasy.

Calendar be damned, we had Christmas. Our very first Christmas just the four of us in our new house, in our new home, way down here in Florida.

Devin Christmas

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