Christmas Presents - To Peek Or Not To Peek

 

As a kid, I had an unusual trait when it came to Christmas presents that I don’t think most kids my age shared. I never peeked. I loved the anticipation of getting gifts - maybe more than the actual gift itself. For example, on Christmas Eve we were allowed to open one present from under the tree - our choice.  I always picked what I thought was the worst one. Doing that gave one more night of excitement before the big reveal the next morning. I would always choose the one that felt mushy, meaning it was almost certainly socks or underwear - a horrible gift for a child. The gifts that rattled meant a game or some kind of cool toy.

 The anticipation I felt when I knew I was going to get a present was a sensation that I always enjoyed.  As a result, I never even tried to find the place where my mom and dad hid the Christmas gifts from Santa. Sadly, my parents never told me their  hiding spot - not even as an adult.  Now that family secret is lost forever.

My little sister Kay was another story.  Beginning in early December, she scoured the house the instant my parents left us alone. NCIS would’ve been jealous of her thoroughness. And while she never found the stash of  Christmas toys, she did manage to locate a stack of men’s magazines in my father’s closet, and some peach brandy in my tee totaling Mom’s chest of drawers. 

When it came to wrapped gifts under the tree, Kay would gently pull the wrapping paper from the corners of every package until she knew what each one was. The only exception were the mushy ones - those were obvious to both of us. No gift escaped her scrutiny. She apparently got some deranged pleasure out of ruining my Christmas morning, so she would be sure to tell me what my presents were. I stopped that practice by threatening to hold her down and smear ketchup on her face - she hated ketchup worse than Democrats hate trickle down economics.  Even so, occasionally, she would say, “You’re gonna like what’s under the tree - want me to tell you what it is?”

“Do you want me to go get the bottle of Heinz?”

The problem she had on Christmas morning was acting surprised as she opened a gift that she had already unwrapped weeks ago. I would roll my eyes as she fake squealed with all the believability of a soap opera actress. It should come as no surprise now when I tell you she reads the ending of a book first. 

The anticipation of opening gifts has about vanished anyway. That’s because it’s nothing special to get a package anymore. I lay the blame solely at the feet of Amazon. How many times a week do we open those boxes now? Every time the doorbell rings, we ‘ll race to the front porch, pull that box inside, and rush to rip it open.  If we are honest, we must admit that we still get a little excited as we open the cardboard box - no matter if it’s only dog treats. So, it’s no wonder that opening Christmas presents under the tree has lost some of it’s magic. They're become just another box to open, even if they are covered in pretty paper. 

Of course, now I’m surprised almost every time an Amazon box shows up at my door. That’s because at my age I’ve forgotten what I ordered. So every day is like Christmas morning for me. 

I suppose that’s one advantage of getting older.