We weren't a Santa Claus family. My parents were concerned that if they taught us to believe in Santa Claus, that there would come a day when we'd find out that they lied to us, then question the existence of Jesus, who we also cannot see, and who also sees when we are sleeping and knows when we're awake. But their more immediate concern was that they wanted credit for giving us presents.
As a matter of fact, I cannot think of any time when my parents lied to us. Sometimes they only told part of the truth, like how Patrick remembers my dad saying that "someone" bought the Nintendo from the garage sale next door, conveniently leaving out the part about it being him. Sometimes the truth was blunt, like when my mom would tell us on the way to the doctor that we were going to get a shot, and that it was going to hurt. But they never lied... or if they did, they were so good that I still don't know about it.
We were taught to be polite about other people believing in Santa Claus, especially that we were never allowed to tell someone that he wasn't real. My parents tell of one Sunday when Eileen and her friend were in the back seat of the car on the way to church. The friend was talking about Santa Claus, and Eileen was just shaking her head, and making sure Mom and Dad knew that she wasn't saying anything. Anyone who knew Young Eileen, will know what great restraint she showed, as she was not known for her quietness.
The presents from my parents would get wrapped as they were bought, and stacked up under the Christmas tree. Occasionally there would be an upset, like the time our dog Judy ate through the wrapping paper and box to get to Dad's chocolate covered cherries (he was not pleased). Dad would bring me the presents that he bought for Mom, and I would wrap them. We always got to open one present (of Mom and Dad's choosing) on Christmas Eve. In the few days that followed Christmas, someone might get a bonus gift, if Mom found a hidden present that she forgot to wrap. I remember getting a calendar that had been hidden under the kitchen sink. Eileen sometimes got age-appropriate presents that needed tested by older siblings, such as the Little Tykes 8-key rainbow piano that still resides in my parents basement.
The only thing as magical as being a kid at Christmastime is watching the next generation of kids start to enjoy Christmas. When my niece Melanie was about three years old, she wanted every present taken out of the packaging as soon as she unwrapped it, which is normal. But then while someone was opening it, she would stare at them, and in a squealing voice, full of Christmas enthusiasm, she'd say, "Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!" until the present was free from the packaging.
When my nephews David and James were old enough to thoroughly enjoy Christmastime, Patrick began singing them a bedtime song called, "The Twelve Days of Christmas in our Family". It seems like a long time ago that our family could be crammed into twelve lines of a song. By next summer, when Tina and Scott and Sammie are in town, we'll be a party of TWENTY. But back in 2007, when my parents had half as many grandchildren, Patrick wrote these creative descriptions that have held up over time. The only exception (note that phrase, Eileen) is that James has grasped the full range of personal pronouns.
Here are the lyrics to the classic song, along with the video of it's debut. On the twelfth day of Christmas in our family...
Abby wants what Kate has
Kate wants what Abby has
James says 'my love you'
David's a super helper
Steve can grow a beard
Eileen's kinda whiny
Tanya's super busy
Paaaaat is so cooooool
Joel is super tall
Jean loves ducks
Grandma loves us all
And Grandpa's really got no hair on top
The Twelve Days of Christmas in Our Family
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