I have a sixteen year old son. It's four days until Christmas. It was inevitable. I could no longer avoid going to the mall. In fact I have gone two days in a row. And I have witnessed my fellow citizens at their worst. And I mean nasty, low down, and ruthless. And that was just in the parking lot. I won't be going back this year. Maybe never. Oh sure I will.
I think we have all of our Christmas shopping done, now. Well, almost. There is that one thing and then there's -yeah, you know how it goes. I'll be standing in some checkout line on Christmas Eve - probably just as the store manager locks the door and begins turning people away and giving me one of those looks. It's just that I never feel I've done enough. That the gift count is lopsided. I didn't spend as much on this one as I did on that one. I forgot something. Or I remembered something.
But that's okay.
When the kids were little we opened presents on Christmas Eve. Santa Claus brought more during the night on his rounds and those were discovered/opened on Christmas morning. That was my family tradition. Now the kids aren't little anymore. We all get to open one present on Christmas Eve and everything else waits until Christmas morning. We get up, make coffee, amble into the family room where the tree is, say Merry Christmas to each other and then all hell breaks lose. For the last several years my wife has bought each of us our own can of silly string. By noon we're all back in our own little worlds doing our own little things. There will be cooking. Baking. Eventually we'll all get together again, fill our plates, spread out before the tv and get into whatever game is being played.
That's how it goes. And there's more. Each year is a little different. This year will be different in some little way. It's all good.
There's four more days to go.
Goodnight.