This was one I’d like to be done with. The concerns about Santa – would he come, was behavior suitable, does he have what I really want (but didn’t tell a soul about)? – were looming. I have it from good authority that only those who truly believe in the magic of St. Nick receive. Those who have doubt are met without, thus confirming suspicions that he might not be.
The boys tried to eliminate all surprise, snooping through closets and trunks for gift previews. Their actions made hubs and I question the way we do Christmas.
We shared a meager gift exchange. Most received necessities: clothes and shoes. Some received creative gifts, though JD was hardly impressed by his graphic model maker. Ri and Ya seemed to be satisfied with their musical presents. In fact, Ri sampled her drums right after hubs put the set together (and risked rousing the entire household of siblings pretending unsuccessfully to be asleep).
It took some coaxing to get Ri to tear open her other gift – a terribly chatty Firby that doesn’t like to sleep. Ya immediately dropped his pick in his guitar and spent several complaining minutes shaking it out. Uncle Art tuned it later, and then (after a lengthy sick nap), my boy became a strummer.
Rico was most obviously disappointed, and spent the day sulking. There was little appeasement for his sour mood. Chi flaunted new boots to Oma’s house, where mom’n’dad served a feast of favorites. I think, though,Chi’s day peaked when each of us opened her carefully selected gifts she’d bought with her own money. She thought about each personality she shopped for and selected well.
It might’ve been nice to extend our gifting, as the unwrapping was akin to a Gone In Sixty Seconds heist. Nevertheless, our Christmas was spent together and both love and illness abounded.