Have yourself a Scary Little Christmas

*Before I write this post, I’d just like to apologize for falling off the face of the blog-o-sphere.  Its been crazy, hectic, and altogether nuts here at Boystown.  Its been a tad difficult to write with this Nicholas shaped growth I have that’s been attached to me as of late.  Hopefully the start of the New Year will bring some regular downtime for me to get back to it.*

I would just like to state- for the record- that growing up has ruined Christmas for me.

It used to be that a Christmas gift from the heart consisted of pasting some macaroni to a piece of construction paper with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ scribbled across the front.

Or my personal favorite- the coupon book. You know the one. The one where you wrote oh-so-many coupons that had favors written on the inside like ‘one free breakfast’. The receiver would then tear it out and give it back to you when they wanted their free meal. I think it took me a total of 15 minutes to make one for everyone I had to give gifts to.

For 2 weeks after payday I scoured the stores searching for “the perfect gift” for everyone on my mile long list.

I finished the sequel to “Amber Soto and the Temple of the Forbidden Aisle” 2 days ago after nearly going Kung Fu Panda on a family that thought “lines” were merely a suggestion for them, not the rule for humanity.

That’s another thing. Remember how your list of people to give to was small enough to fit on a post-it note? Now it takes a 3 ring binder full of paper.

You can see all the poor souls demonstrating my point as they wander with a glazed look trying to find the latest craze that the media has decided to punch up for this year. Sure the item- all the commercials are clamering about- has been around for the past year… but now its new and improved! The green button is now blue! These poor individuals wander the aisles ready to pounce on the coveted item the second should a basket be left unattended for 3 seconds- with 50 sheets worth of names to buy for… and only half crossed off.

No, I’m not the Amber Who Stole Christmas- of course, if I DID steal it, it was because it was left in the basket by itself for more than 3 seconds.

No, I just experienced the joy that comes before the joy of giving- the joy of waiting in lines so long that I promised a 5 year old I’d give him presents if he’d be still for the wait. Nevermind that on Dec. 26th I’ll be able to open my OWN toy store with how many toys all 3 boys will have.

The things frustrated parents do.

I remember when I never worried about what to buy people. Not just because I didn’t have money, but because it didn’t seem as big a deal. I used to try to find out what I was getting before Christmas because I was nosy- now its because I need to know what I’m up against.

How much do I need to spend on this person so that I don’t seem like a Cheapskate?

Nope. Christmas has gone over to the dark side, my friends.

We can’t even call it Christmas anymore- a friend of mine talked about his experience with that. Christmas has turned into Xmas.

I want to turn back time. I want to be excited about Christmas. I want to believe in Santa and write him letters. I want to leave out milk and cookies on Christmas Eve and see them gone in the morning- all the while thinking he ate them. I want to give a present that I think is cool without being worried that its not as expensive as the one I’ve just gotten. I want to believe that the smiles I see on peoples’ faces are happy ones- not ones that come from losing it.

And most of all, I want to NEVER again set foot in a shopping center the week before Christmas.

What?  Too much to ask?

 

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