Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?

  When I was young (Here I go again, waxing nostalgic. You can tell me to shut up if you want. Right in the comments. Go ahead! I know you want to!) we had a lot of holiday traditions. Things like the advent calendar, candy house, cookie-baking, tree decorating, moving the wise men closer to the manger each night, etc. Lots of good memories and fun times!

But one of the funniest traditions to think back on is Christmas morning. You know how in the movies and in books and such the kids get up on Christmas morning and run downstairs and tear into their presents - wrapping paper and bows flying, boxes and tissue wrap willy-nilly, presents being extracted from boxes with wild abandon and shouts of glee?

Yeah, well, not so much. It was much more controlled and sedate when I was young. In fact, it was exactly the opposite of the way it happens in the movies. I'm not saying it was bad, just, um, different. It went like this:

• We would get up (I don't recall at what time, but I'm sure it was rather early. After all, we were excited! Santa had come!). 
• We would gaze in admiration at the tree and the pile of presents beneath it (a household with six kids always had a lot of presents beneath it). 
• We would sigh, knowing we couldn't touch anything until the moment was right. We had to wait until the parents were up. (Of course - this is a requirement in my own house today - I want to witness.)

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

And once they were up, well, we had to wait until breakfast was made - something extravagant usually like pancakes or waffles, coffee and cookies, eggs, a regular 5 course meal.

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

Then we had to wait some more until, well, I don't know, until we couldn't wait a minute more.

( Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?)

Then, Dad would meander slowly out to the living room and take his place near the tree. He would take his time and drag it out.

After much delay, he would begin to pass out gifts to the family who was anxiously bouncing on the couch in anticipation. Come on! Come on! Can we open 'em now? Huh? Huh? Can we?

Then, slowly. Oh so slowly. He would pass out the gifts. One at a time. Each was to be savored like a fine wine or a bit of chocolate. We would all watch as each gift was opened, anxiously awaiting our own gifts.

(Is that one for me? Is it mine? Huh? Huh? Is it?)

But it did make the whole experience last longer. And despite how funny, silly and torturous it sounds while recounting it, I wouldn't change it a bit. We all got the full experience of every gift, each bow and wrapper, and the expressions on the faces of those opening them. It may have been a bit over the top, a little much, but hey, I made it through, right? And I can tell my kids all about it and exaggerate to my hearts content because I can. 
 
Quack!