Christmas Day is upon us and if you’re anything like me it’s not so much about the season of giving these days as it is the season for getting time off work!
But it’s all for the kids really, a fact that becomes frighteningly apparent only after you’ve had some. Of course it’s never apparent when you’re a kid because its just one big present takefest but when I look back on those days now I wonder just how my parents did it so impressively for so long – on less money and less opportunity too.
Our parents would buy us stuff throughout the year and not leave it till the last minute, mad farken rush that seems to befall most people these days. There was no such luxury of the late night suicide run to the mall back then either. Almost as soon as the tree went up at the beginning of December that would be a shitload of presents under it just screaming out for we excited kids to try and take a peek and blame any partly open presents on the cat. Of course nothing under the tree at that point would be for us kids but it drove you mad seeing that bloody pile every day.
Thankfully kids these days have four school terms, the one and only advantage of which is that they finish school quite late in the year meaning they don’t quite get the Chrissy bug till around the same time you do, about a week before the big day. Very little present tampering can be planned and executed in a week. Trust me.
My son – almost ten – has given up the ghost that is the Santa myth. He’s done the same with the Easter bunny too but strangely still holds on to the belief that the tooth fairy exists! It’s a shrewd bit of play by Junior because whereas the other two bring cheap presents and cheap chocolate – now that’s the story of Jesus – the mythical molar fairy brings cold hard cash and that is the shit, even when you’re ten.
My belief in the big fat fulla died out not long after I realised that it was mother who kept buying me Master of the Universe toys when I clearly stipulated in my letters to Santa that all he had to leave under the tree for me was a mega pile of G.I.Joes. I even sat on a lot of semi erect penises in the various Santa Grotto’s around the place asking for the same thing, whilst clearly in ear shot of my mother, who I now realise had that same glint in her eye that she always had when she played the ‘I’ll buy him something he doesn’t really want so I can claim ungratefulness when he gets disappointed’ game.
Did you know Santa wears red and white because Coca Cola put him in their colours for a promo once and he’s been in it ever since? How’s that for the best advertising campaign ever? Think about that next time you do that thing you like to do in the shower with the empty Coke bottle that saw you taken to A & E once where you had to use the excuse “I had finished drinking and just slipped on it after putting it down”.
So my Christmas day will be spent with the extended family and the food fest that is Christmas lunch at the in-laws. It’s a fantastic day with lots of presents, happy kids and booze on tap. Last year I decided to make a day of it and tried to drink the wife’s 18 year old train wreck of a cousin under the table. Little did I know back then that she was a certified alcoholic and I never stood a chance - by the time I was slurring my words she was just getting warmed up, so needless to say my day ended with a comatose power nap on the couch and a shirt dowsed in dribble.
I did have quite the insightful discussion though, whilst inebriated, with the wife’s other 18 year old cousin and just how much porn he surfed whilst locked away in his room all day. It was one of those discussions that always seem to be louder than it actually was, probably because the room had gone quiet. I also questioned him at length as to what the two gauges on the dash of his pimped out motor actually did and what was the point given that we can all only do 100kmh on the open road?
I don’t recall him giving me much of an answer but that might have been down to the fact he was half way down the hill driving it away when I asked. It’s true what they say you know, excess alcohol does slow down your reactions….
The father-in-law loved it; he had been working on me for years to turn in a performance like that in front of the Aunties. His theory is if you can’t get pissed on Christmas day when can you aye? It’s a theory I’m beginning to see the benefits of and lets be honest, rules are meant to be broken – that’s why my wife and I don’t use the ‘safety word’ any more.
Anyhoo, Merry Christmas to you all and I trust you’ll have a safe one. I’m off to see if there is any G.I.Joes wrapped up under the tree for me this year. I’ll blame the partly open presents on the boy and if that doesn’t stick, the cats.
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