Remember the unbridled childhood excitement of Christmas Morning? The insomnia-inducing obsession with the sheer possibilities of the bounty Santa Claus would surely leave under the tree? Staring at the ceiling at 4:00 am, debating asking your parents if you can just cut the nonsense and get this party started right now?
As we grow older, however, there seems to be less and less magic each year, which ironically provides less and less of a window for acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is it lame that at 29 years old, I’m still waiting for that owl?
But I’m thrilled to say that after believing it was gone forever, I’m suddenly feeling that familiar old Christmas Morning anticipation once again because starting today, my wife and I will be orchestrating that magic for the Twins, as we prepare to give them their First Christmas Ever.
At 11 months, they’re not by any means at an age where they can fully comprehend all that’s happening, but we’re in no hurry for them to grow up any quicker than they already have, and we see this year as a prelude–a taste of many happy memories to come.
And now, on The Night Before Christmas, as I look all through the house (with my dog, the only stirring creature, pawing at my shin for attention now that the Twins are down for a long winter’s nap) I see decorations that will become ingrained in the Twins’ subconscious as Christmas-defining relics, just as my parents magically transformed $4.99 pharmacy purchases into The Singing Christmas Bear I Played With Every Year While We Decorated the Tree, The Christmas Carol Book with Which I Led the Whole Family in Rousing Sing-Alongs, and The Nativity Scene with Which I Fabricated Alternate Biblical Storylines Involving He-Man Saving Baby Jesus from Cobra Commander with the Help of the Three Wise Musketeers, the Ninja Donkey and the Jedi Cow.
The Twins’ first stockings are hung by the chimney with care–so much care, in fact, that the stocking hangers are double-sided-taped to the mantel, courtesy of my wife. The World’s Sweetest Dump Trucks are under the tree, and have been partially unwrapped several times already by tiny wandering hands. We will be hosting a throng of family members for breakfast in the morning as they join us in celebrating our two inspiring new additions, and we’ll occasionally erupt with the enthusiastic recitation of lines from A Christmas Story as it plays in continuous loop in the background.
I absolutely cannot wait.
On that note, I still have just a little more magic to finish up, so I’m going to head back up the chimney and get on that. Thanks for the cookies. I usually exclaim this as I drive out of sight, but I’m feeling a little hoarse, so I’m just going to write it instead:
From the entire Pseudonymous family to you, O Loyal Reader, we wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!
However, we will not sing on your doorstep and refuse to leave without homemade figgy pudding. That’s just rude.
Besides, we have better things to do today.
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