Vail Daily Editor and Publisher Don Rogers: On the eve of the big day
Vail, CO Colorado
At my house, we open one present on Christmas Eve. And it’s always … pajamas. Sigh.
We’ll change quickly and won’t want to get out of our PJ’s until New Year’s. We’ll spend more time with this utilitarian, comfortable (boring) gift than any bauble, toy or other bit of glitter Santa drops off in the morning.
When the kids were little, a storybook came with the pajamas. I’m sure we read to them several years more than we really needed to. They didn’t seem to mind.
Up would go sheets to separate them from Santa’s delivery, no peeking. The big guy doesn’t like to be disturbed in his important work.
They fussed little when they were young. Until just before sunrise, of course, unbelieving at how slow the grownups were to rise to the momentous occasion.
At our current home, they camped out in the other living room, under the other tree, with the same sheets up even if they had reached the age of wisdom about such things.
We had our own version of don’t ask, don’t tell regarding Santa. No, I’m not talking about the jolly guy’s orientation. But we didn’t ask, and the kids sure didn’t want to break the spell.
We’d know it was time for jolly elf duty after our daughter quit hollering at her brother not to cheat at Halo, or rub it in if she happened to win a skirmish.
It’s been this way every year. But now the son is bringing home his own wife. And I’m kind of wondering how that is going to go.
Is it time for a frank talk about Santa? You know, just in case. We knew the movie “The Santa Clause” bought us a couple of extra years. But this is beginning to get ridiculous.
We know his younger sister knows. She was that one, always asking those inconvenient questions, and you could tell by the little frown she wasn’t quite buying the answers. The only one she bought was her brother imploring her to quit messing with the magic, ya know? Geez! Let the grownups have their fantasy. Don’t let on so they know that we know.
So even today we dance around the subject. The kids sleep in until well after the sun comes up (I blame the video games). The booty doesn’t need as much late-night assembly.
My wife still stays up long after Santa’s work is done. Her favorite time of all might well be that bit of quiet time with just the tree lights on, presents set up just so, no doubt remembering all her Christmases past while she was growing up, while her kids were growing up, and no doubt the ones to come while her grandkids grow up.
Just sitting there, sipping some tea or wine. In her new PJ’s.
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