Christmas Morning

We had to wait at the top of the stairs, clutched to each other in our Holly Hobby bathrobes.  My mom brought us teeny glasses of orange juice as my Dad scurried around turning on lights.

 “Ok girls, lets see what Santa brought,” our Mom announced, allowing us to run into the living room.  Second rule was that we had to find the note from Santa before opening any presents. You can’t open the gift before the card.  Our traditional offering was cookies and a Heinekin, with a few carrots for the reindeer.  Next to his plate of crumbs, he always left a quick note of praise to my sister and I.

 My parents believed in one big-impact gift per child.  There were four of us, but they also both grew up in poor households where gifts were considered a luxury.  The Big Wheel and Barbie Camper made my top-ten of all time.  I would have included the play kitchen, except for the fact that my parents waited until Sarah was old enough to ask for it, so they could get more bang for their buck.  By twelve I understood that the end results were more impressive when you baked in the real oven. 

 One Christmas morning we ran into the room to find a moving stocking.  To our delight, we carefully removed a small puppy from my felt stocking.  We had been asking for a puppy ever since our cat Friday had passed away so this was a huge surprise.  We spent the morning playing with our sweet dog.  Unfortunatly, she did not arrive trained, and left her mark on our Oriental carpet.  Later that day, my father asked my Aunt to take the dog off our hands.  I do not remember any discussions, or books read to us on pet loss.  It was the 1970’s, so my cousins came over and we worked on our Bee Gees dance routine.  . 

 Whenever I see commercials for children getting puppies on Christmas morning, I laugh.  The gift may not have worked out, but the funny memory remains.