The wrapping, it was finished, at last. I did miss one gift, but with the birthdays coming up in January and February, it won't stay stashed for long.
I woke up early, like I always do -- and was making an earnest effort to go back to sleep for a while, but then Amalie wandered in, and there was no chance at faking somnolence for another hour or so. Carson followed soon after, and we were all on our feet a little after 8 am. The coffee was put on, and Val was ready to make breakfast at the start, but the kids could not be denied, so we went for the stockings first.
Amalie has her own stocking -- two of them, really, though only one was packed -- which I hand-labeled for one of her first Christmases. So she knows which one to pull down. Valerie has a hand-labeled one, as well, but she was content to wait.
Carson doesn't have his own, personal stocking -- or didn't until now. A new stocking was hung by the chimney with care, bedecked with pictures of Lightning McQueen. Carson immediately determined that this was his stocking, and a few Hot Wheels cars inside proved it beyond all doubt.
The first two cars of many. Note supercool Lightning McQueen stocking.The kids ripped through their stockings and small, adjacent stockpiles of gifts, and then decided Mommy and Daddy had to open theirs as well. Coffee brewed and at the ready, Amie handed Val her stocking, then took the last loaded one and gave it to me. Carson was concerned -- it didn't have my name on it, so maybe it should be for him! No, I said, we each get one, and this one was for me. He wasn't sure, and observed me closely in case sanctions needed to be imposed for ransacking someone else's stocking.
I assured him it was for me, and pulled out the first item -- a chocolate bar. Proof of nothing, really, as everyone got some chocolate. Then I extracted a gold pouch and proclaimed it -- coffee! Carson glowered, took it from me, and no-look passed it to Val, known to all as the fondest coffee-drinker in the household. Now look, I told the boy, this is my stocking, and I can get coffee! Carson still wasn't sure it wasn't meant to be for him, but I (a) pointed out there were no cars within, and (b) pulled out several packs of baseball cards. That did it; Carson resigned that it was indeed Daddy's stocking and I wasn't stealing it from him. I shook out all the packs from my stocking, and that was that. Val then upended her stocking, and let the kids open everything but the last gift, which turned out to be her annual Iditarod medallion.
And then a pause for semi-organized breakfast. Val whipped up scrambled eggs, bacon (from a gift pack from her parents), and toast. I poured up more coffee and got juice for the kids, and we crowned the feast with a tiny snack loaf that also came in the breakfast gift pack. Ten minutes later, everyone had eaten what they were going to eat, and we cleared plates and closed in on the tree and its hoard.
We got a Noble Pine this year, again, picked up from the local Lowe's -- we have given up on living trees since the three replanted in the yard died off (there's still one, more recent, left). This way the tree either gets recycled by the city or tossed onto our big compost, and all is well. The pine this year was amazingly aromatic -- the front room smelled wonderful for weeks (it is fading at last). Strangely, the tree drank very little water, and so has dried out and dropped needles badly, and the branches are even drooping in some parts (not to worry, the lights are cool LEDs, fire risk negligible). I cannot recall the last time I had a tree that didn't make it at least to the new year, but this one will not. Oh well. It served us well, and guarded the kids' Christmas treasures proudly.
Amalie took the point, picking and distributing gifts, as she is the newest reader in the house. Carson did his best, making a game effort to look for the capital "C", but I had to point out that not every gift was to him, as some were from him, so the "C" alone didn't mean a particular gift was for him -- but he was right more often than not. Huge drifts of torn paper and bows piled up, the kids exulted with each new toy or game or book or movie discovered, Val scored books and movies, I got a spice rack (very nice). Val had a moment of trepidation when, unwrapped, she found a pink Victoria's Secret box -- which contained but a pair of pajamas, nice and warm but not remotely risque. Hey, I know my wife.
I inspect the spice rack while Amie uses some of the packing material to angelic effect.The scorecard? Each kid got a scooter. Carson got fleets of toy cars, two radio-controlled big cars (one that turns into a robot), a bumper cars game (which is painfully loud; electronic toys should always, always have volume control), a few Pixar Cars books, some clothes, a hat and gloves, some sport balls, a door-mounted rack to hold over 100 toy cars, and his own Rubik's Cube; boy stuff. Amie got books, clothes, games, a Barbie from Carson, her own manicure kit, a digital camera (pink, of course); girl stuff. Val got a nice pullover sweatshirt, a Taos tee shirt, the pajamas, shoes and socks (hand selected; her right foot has really been bothering her lately), books, a steering wheel cover suspiciously similar to the one I got last year, and a Willows statuette of a man and woman (nicely complementing the ones she got a year ago, a mommy and daughter and mommy and little boy). Mommy stuff. Me, I got the spice rack, a shower seat (I was certain I was going to get that), some books, a robe, pair of jeans, a GPS from my folks (cool!), and a toy wind-up buffalo. Dad stuff. And everyone got some movies.
Test drives.We did it. I love Christmas, but am glad it comes around only once a year, because it can be so exhausting.
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