However, I don't want to write about the hectic and crazy Christmases that we experience now as adults, I want to hearken back to a simpler time, a time when Christmas just magically appeared. You know, those awesome Christmases when I was a kid.
On my Dad's side, I have 10 cousins, making 13 of us in total. And pretty much every year until I was 12 (when our nuclear family moved 500 miles away) we'd all spend Christmas evening at my Grandma Carol's house. This meant a horde of children would convene in my Grandma's living room and tear open package after package after package. The wood floor would become covered in discarded paper and bows. One year when my younger cousin Joel was only a few-month-old rolling baby, we actually lost him under the sea of wrapping paper. I remember an aunt or grandmother stopping the chaos so we could find the lost baby. Joel was, of course, fine, although he had rolled farther than we figured he could. I saw pictures of last year's Christmas at Grandma Carol's, and I was so very happy to see the joyful mess continues.
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