istmas. "Don't forget, children!" we say with tilted head and wide smile, a glint of merry joy in our eyes and a hushed whisper for effect, "it's in the name: Christmas!" With glee the children run around the Christmas tree, hands held high above their heads, which playfully bob side to side with the rhythm of their tireless dance of giving and love, and laugh their way to the floor where they smile contentedly before offering to take everyone their gifts and open their own last. Then they sit on their mommy's and daddy's laps and giggle squirmingly, eager to see the surprised delight in their parents' eyes as they cherish their young ones' gifts, dear to their hearts and forever guarded with the utmost care upon the fireplace mantel. They are small porcelain gifts, painstakingly painted and glazed and fired hot to perfection with little delicate strokes by little delicate fingers, and they look like the gods and godesses of ancient Zarathustra, with the truest of virtues etched exquisitely in the bottom corners in such a way that when the sun beams of an evening sunset caught them in just the right way, they would glint and shine in their parents caring hands. They were obviously simple gifts, nothing that showed any kind of special intelligence or talent for sculpting or artistry, but they were special, for it was almost as if they had been wrought with the very blood of the children. But of course they had not been, that would be foolish.Well, that's how Christmas goes down in my home. What's your story like? I'm sure it's different, maybe just as good in its own way, but it's probably the only story that your family could ever tell. To whisper a different tale, well, that just wouldn't be right. Remember though, to include a reminder to remember to remember the true meaning of Christmas. Otherwise, all your greedy, grinchy, stressful, loveless, tedious, load-bearing, cold, boring, usual, run-of-the-mill, unwanted gifts might not mean quite so much.
(Note: I just wanted to write something because everyone else seems to have good stuff to say all the time. So I just let my miserly fingers type out what my grinchy mind came up with and if you hate me, fine. If not... I'll try harder next time.)