There’s so much build-up to Christmas morning, and then the flurry of opening presents, and then all the paper and boxes and ribbons strewn all over as the kids go from one new toy to the next, and then the momentary let-down that this doesn’t come again for another whole year.
The Advent calendars are finished.
Santa has eaten his snack of milk and cookies, and carrots for the reindeer. Only crumbs remain.
Charlie the Elf has gone, leaving with Santa to return to the North Pole.
That’s when someone — in this case my daughter-in-law — asks “Who’s ready for some breakfast?” Just what we all need: hot coffee, eggs, toast, a chance to savor and decompress. The kids eat quickly and wander back to their new toys, this time more slowly and with greater attention to each thing.
Someone notices that it’s been snowing; there is likely enough snow to make a snowman, or a fort, or play snow soccer.
The day slides into a rhythm. More family arrives. The Raclet meal is prepared.
Archie got an air hockey table; everyone takes a turn.
Princess Else’s blue silk gloves fall by the wayside, first one and then the other.
The dog Bob, who is 12 we think and getting old, ignores the clamor and sleeps.
George the cat appears, wondering what all the commotion is about.
There’s good wine, and Scotch, and Aquavit, and port and a cask-aged bourbon — all Christmas gifts begging to be opened and sampled.
It’s a lovely family day, with the good kind of exhaustion at the end.
Today and tomorrow show the last Christmas pics, and then my year-end summary of blog stats will follow. I started writing the blog in 2009 on a trip to Panama, and have written nearly every day since. Remarkable.