Friday, Dec. 25, 1998: We got a laugh when I opened up a book that Sharon had wrapped for me, and which I’d also bought several days ago. In fact, as it turned out, it was that very book that I’d bought, which is a pretty efficient way of getting people presents. Sharon and Caitlin (9) go out to the street to play with the whirlybird Drew (7) bought for her. Some guy swerved and ran over it.
Monday, December 25, 2000: Matty (2) goes right to Spence’s (4) new Woody station wagon and snaps the top off of it. He continues to circulate with utter confidence and a sense of entitlement. If he has a notion to grab something, and bang it on something else, then he’ll do it. Spencer takes that car, so nicely crafted and pleasingly designed, and hangs onto it all day. He creates pretty comprehensive imaginative scenarios, which can go on pretty indefinitely. If anyone wants to join in, he’s pleased to accommodate. If anyone joins in—oh, say, two-year-old destructo fashion, he’ll request reasonable decorum, and he’ll make do.
Drew (9) got busy. With a purposeful look on her face she went from thing to thing, getting the measure, and then just rolling her sleeves up and having fun. She had her telescope case around her wrist all day. She wrestled, happily bemused, with that Hi-Q game. She minutely arranged the boys’ explorer playmobile set. She even more minutely arranged their new tinker toys. (Sometimes the wrong present goes to the wrong person, with the usual result that it works out right in the end.) It was fun to watch her.
Caitlin (11) was nice. It was the clothes—name brands!—that consumed her. She eventually deigned to ride that skateboard. Her looking outward, whether or not she knows it or we note it, is pretty constant, and childhood’s end is nigh. Mum, always so mild, reveals herself to be a murderous checkers strategist. Her cruel tactics pretty well force Caitlin to give up and throw board and pieces all over the room.
The Randalls come over, then take Sarah (7) and Spence back over with them. I pull Spence to me. “Now Spencer, be sure you’re quiet and good.” He looks up at me and most reasonably states the obvious. “Dad, I’m always quiet and good.” This little child really should be leading.
Tuesday, December 25, 2001: An agent for her nefarious siblings, Sarah (8) keeps popping in to see if they can get up yet. At 6 AM we roll out. Stockings in the family room. Caitlin’s (12) very happy about her whoopee cushion. Spence (5) finally gets a journal. I do my first ever spiritual thought (D&C 122, John 16: 33) for a devotional, and then we start doing damage. We parents are pleasantly surprised. Our too many presents are easily absorbed into the harmonious atmosphere and the feeling of commonwealth.
Everyone gets books. Everyone gets music. Everyone playmobiles. The Game Boy is heavily subscribed to, but miraculously causes no conflict. Matt (3) rings his bicycle bell. Sarah’s magic bank breaks. The day brightens and we get done and everything feels pretty good. Everyone lines up for that casserole, for fruit and muffins. The CDs go on the changer, spirograph patterns get scored into the kitchen table, the Clue games begin, and I lose consciousness. So it continues. Great day!
Oh, yes—Claire (0) gets up at about 8:30, having missed everything and not minding particularly. She looks brightly around, beams and buries her head when you make eye contact. Sharon and I exchange naps. Still pj’d, we get a visit from Lance R. and boys. Brock is mortified by that whoopee cushion. That scaled down chicken dinner is a nice reduced change. Time is just passing slowly and lightly and gently.
We watch Muppets Take Manhattan. Mum laughs very loud. Then she starts fading out. Everyone plays with their many things. We talk. We look at our new Tati discs. Spence and Matt laugh their heads off at the Jour de Fete pre-feature. We put them lovingly to bed. Sarah and Drew (10) stay up with me, partly playing with that Game Boy, mostly just wanting to live the day out. Nothing very dramatic here, and one of the best Christmases ever.
Wednesday, December 25:, 2002 I’ve got a cold, so I sleep kind of uncomfortably. Moreso because at some unreasonable hour the boltedly-awake chirping Spencer (6) gets into bed. “What time is it now?” We could both see that Sharon wasn’t planning to budge, so at 4:30 AM we got up, grabbed Pinocchio and went down to the girls’ room. There they all were, awake and enjoying the moment. Drew (11) was lying in Caitlin’s (13) bed. They stayed there together for more than an hour, without complaint of contention. Knowing that consummation was imminent, and that anticipation can be just as nice, we all enjoyed ourselves there very much, reading and listening, interjecting and digressing under the Christmas lights.
I found the text and the context both to be quite marvelously affecting. Perhaps they did too. Well, maybe not poor Spence. “Is it 6 o’clock yet?”
Finally at 5:45 we rose up and forced Mum to get out of bed. Matt (4) and Claire (1) were roused too. For Matt it was as if he’d wakened up on Christmas morning. Claire had a tough time fighting through the blear, but if the occasion didn’t mean much to her, the air of excited good will did. There was some brief stocking lingering, and then we all went to the family room and got to it.
A lot of stuff! Matt was careening, and Spence kept talking about how kind Santa was. We sent Sarah (9) to turn on the lights in the living room. She found a drum set there. We sent Caitlin to get the guitar. She found a new bass. Their unexpecteds were enjoyable. No one seemed to notice the presents that were requested but not received (golden shoes?!). Christmas carnage always ends quite early, but the great thing is that you’ve got all those hours to survey and play. We shared a very long, very nice day together.
We had our standard breakfast. Sarah and Spence and Matt made a whole mess of Harry Potter potions. There was much drumming. Matt was surprisingly polyrhythmic. Claire has quite a touch on the high hat. We had eight new CDs, so there was a lot of music floating around. Caitlin plugged in the bass and started picking out lines immediately. With Sarah banging and me on the piano, the three of us had “Stand by Me” down by mid-day. Of course parents always poop out early on. That new Sponge Bob dvd kept everyone a little too occupied. By the end of the day it seems the girls had memorized, and were intent on reciting, the whole thing.
Thanks to GE/Honours we had a nice turkey dinner. We cleaned up. We played a game of Bingo. Everyone was kind of tired, which made for a perfect last thirty pages of our book. Again, the theme and treatment were just right, with all the trouble and tenderness, the profound thinking about our hard and wonderful passing from childhood to knowledge, with the process beginning again.
After having some big pieces of pie I put on a Bill Cosby CD that we’d listened to joyously in our own home, in my old days. Bull’s eye. They all sat there delightedly, and I doubly so. Here were all our kids, rapturously gathering in someone’s glowing reminiscences as they, barely conscious of it, were making their own dear memories. Again, still, we find ourselves in the best of times.
Saturday, December 25, 2004: They get us up at 6:30. We are tired. We go out to our presents. There are fewer this year. Everyone is happy with their lot, which is more than enough. Well, everyone but poor Spence (8). He’s really feeling poorly. During the unwrapping he just lays languidly by the warm air. He’s unable to generate any enthusiasm, or even nearly any sign of consciousness. After the settling and the rising light and the breakfast the kids watch a Sponge Bob dvd, which Drew (13) has purchased for Claire (3), and which represents for them ideal holiday faire. Does it bring them together, and affectionately? Why not?
Sunday, December 25, 2005: 6 AM. Straight to it. The little ones accumulate modest, perfectly proportioned little piles of loot. They are happy. The three ipod—and ipods only!—girls are extremely happy. We have plenty of pre-church time to play and relax. Sacrament is nice. Caitlin (16) and Kim L. sing. Drew (14) and Sarah C. play. We get out at 10:10, and a huge, long, great day follows…
