Daughter of Claus: Day XXV
Merry, Merry Christmas!
On the jukebox: O Holy Night by Il Divo
Mum and Dad used to have a digital alarm clock when we were younger - a black block of plastic, with bright red LED numbers announcing the time. This was invaluable for any young child who couldn’t quite tell the time yet, as we were not allowed to get up on Christmas morning until six o’clock. Me and my younger sister Virginia, Ginny, would wake up about half past four. The stockings would be there, bulging, at the end of our beds, and the excitement of having them just out of reach (metaphorically speaking) was almost too much to bear. We would take it in turns to creep quietly through into Mum and Dad’s room to look at the alarm clock and report back, willing the minutes to fly by until six o’clock came round. Eventually it did, and the bedcovers were a mass of ripped wrapping paper in no time.
I remember Mum and Dad getting up after a late, late night spent helping Santa Claus and organising last minute things, tired and groggy after too little sleep. When I got older, I realised they had probably only had about three or so hours of sleep all night by the time we excitedly ran through to clamber onto the bed and show them our stocking presents.
The massive pile of Christmas presents would not be tackled until much later, after Christmas Breakfast, when we’d all sit down together, full of good things, and start the hours-long endeavour of opening everything. Everyone would select a present from the pile, and we would all take it in turns to read out who the present was for, and watch them open it. Given the size of our family, this took hours. Really, hours. We loved every minute of it.
There used to be two or three Christmas presents left under the tree from Santa Claus which we would open after Christmas Dinner (back when we still had Christmas Dinner on Christmas Day), but as our family grew and the present pile got bigger and bigger, Santa opted instead to focus on the stockings alone.
In recent years, with my own family, our Christmases have adapted to where we happen to be - whether in Caithness or in Cumbria. In coming years, there will no doubt be more Christmases in our own home, and I am looking forward to continuing some of the traditions we have each brought from our respective families, alongside starting and adapting our own family folklore.
Christmas is not all about the presents, though obviously that aspect is particularly popular with children. But the ritual of sitting down together to share in each other’s delight is important, whatever your age. When I look back on Christmas Past, there are certainly many presents I specifically remember; but, more than that, I remember the joy of sharing the experience with each other. The mess, the noise, the sheer exhaustion of Christmas Day. All of it was magical, and it would stay with me long after I finally climbed back into my bunk bed at the end of the day, picking bits of stocking wrapping paper out of my covers, and falling asleep almost instantly.
I would love to hear about your own Christmas folklore and memories. What Christmas Day traditions do you have, or do you remember from childhood?