A Very 8YO Me Christmas

I was always a naughty boy. I never believed in the fat man... no matter how much of a cool dude I thought The Santa Clause's "Bernard the Elf" was. (Bernard was my DUDE.) Seriously though, I loved that movie... the death of Santa Claus, the bumbling Tim Allen as a first-time Santa and longtime dimwit dad ("And THAT is exactly why you want a high-quality fire extinguisher... right in the kitchen!"), the "plain milk's fiiiine"... the E.L.F. Squad, the farting reindeer... all classic Yuletide stuff. Now go ahead and call me "not sentimental" or whatever (like my girlfriend), but I guess I was always just a big cynic about the whole "Christmas" thing. Probably because my parents were. We weren't religious, so for me, Christmas was always far more pragmatic than "magical." Long car rides around the neighborhood at night to go look at the people's lights were the highlights of our traditions, so if there's one thing I still love about this time of year, it's the lights. And the candy. And the presents. And the candy "reindeer poop." 

That's what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown. That's the "naughty list Christmas," and it's the best kind. And I'll tell you why... it's the most miraculous. 

Yeah Christmas for me was about jumping in the warm car to go tramp around in the ice cold evening wind for an hour or two admiring the lights around the lake, usually accompanied with a trip to the local church light display said to be one of the biggest on the eastern seaboard. Waiting in the never-ending traffic of the nighttime rush hour stall getting over to the light display as the heat in the car approached Death Valley levels... THAT was the "magic of the season!" Listening to Jerry Matthis belt out "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" five times over while dad drove us around in circles in the packed parking lot was truly the "spirit of the holidays." And it was considered a "miracle" if we found a prime spot right up front (near the nativity set). I swear, those glowing figurines always looked so charming and innocent when caught in the headlights!

Yes, Christmas was about the details of getting through it. All the little chores. One year, me, my dad, and my brother attempted to assemble the fake Christmas tree for the living room, and it took nearly the whole day. We rolled the plastic Douglas Fur out of the box, and when the trunk wasn't fitting together, my dad literally took the thing to his workbench in pieces to rig up some PVC piping to hold them in place. His explanation was that by the time the thing was decorated we wouldn't even notice it, before going off on a tirade against the "plastic Christmas tree industry" for over-engineering the thing so damn much with their "know-it-all college degrees." We stuck the pieces together, bottom to top, and set to work unfolding the branches. Then we took a step back, and something didn't look quite right. 

"Dad, I think it's upside down..." I said.

Sure enough, the tree started out small at the bottom and was exploding near the top! After a laugh, we pulled it apart, tore off all the "modifications," and put it together the way those college-educated know-it-alls at the company most likely intended. We threw on some ornaments and three hours after we had first taken it from the box, it was up, with all its pieces in the right order. Something tells me it would've been up in twenty minutes if mom was home. *knock knock*

Christmas was long hours fighting the traffic over to the mall for shopping trips, begging my parents to go this or there and joking about the empty chair for the mall Santa... ("Guess he had to hit the magical CAN!" I'd joke). The mall was always so decorated and lit up, and bustling around Christmas time. We could barely even play "the black floor tiles are lava" as me and my brother were tugged through the crowds. We could barely make it through the Radio Shack, the Discovery Store, the KB Toys... and whatever that store was that had the wooden train set you could play with right in the store... you know, all the COOL stores! No, they were "too crowded." "Too many kids." But damn it, the JC Penny and the Sears? We spent sooooo much damn time looking at comforter sets, curtain rods, and crock pots. Too damn long for the 8-year-old me... One time I got so frustrated I pulled down my pants right in the store! My brother did the same right after me, and it worked! Our parents pulled us out of there so fast you'd think we'd set off a bomb. We got a good whoppin' for that. Merry Christmas! 

Welcome to the Jungle!

Lights have always been more my bag. It just isn't Christmas until you've untangled the thicket of green wires freshly gutted from the cardboard box, and then gone through one after another looking for that stubborn one that's out in the whole set. It's not really Christmas until you rig up the lights only to find out that none of the reds work. It was never really Christmas until we had littered the living room floor with wrapping paper and the boxes of ornaments, fought over who got to use the tape and where the extra scissors went, and wrapped all the presents like tootsie rolls because I couldn't wrap a box worth a damn. Then I guess, it wasn't really Christmas until we came up from our bedroom in the morning to find waaay more gifts than were there the night before, knowing that mom and dad must've had a busy night (especially if a new Lego set was in there!). Magic!

Wow! I've been a naughty boy all year and I still got the Lego set! It's a Christmas miracle! I KNEW Santa wasn't real! 

The E.L.F. Squad though, that's legit. 

Merry Chex-Mix.