Christmas Morning at Oates Manor

Because our kids go to bed at a normal hour, and Eninen's are allowed to run wild through the house until they decide it's a good time to go to sleep, our boys were up on Christmas morning at least two hours before the "fun" kicked in. That gave them ample time to admire their presents, then hide them so they wouldn't be destroyed by the see-thru tsunami.

Our youngest stared at the filthy Playmobil truck with a door missing that Santa left for Translucent 2, then looked at us with concern. He didn't say anything out loud, but his expression said, "Holy crap, man. I'm going to be extra-good next year."

Nancy and her gang came dragging into the living room around 8 am, and one of them was howling without delay. "I wanted a farm!" the youngest kid whine-screamed, over and over again. A farm?! The other two looked their gifts over with curiosity, then one said, "We have more under the tree, right?"

They did. And our boys were enlisted into the process of doling out the wrapped gifts, while the translucents got themselves cranked up for another day.

The noise in that room was unbelievable, it sounded like a livestock auction in there. Nostrils was already in the kitchen preparing another batch of his famous projectile-diarrhea hippie coffee, and Nancy was standing off to one side looking as if someone had just waved a fresh-cut turd under her nose. And their kids were, as far as I could tell, hollering for hollering’s sake.

It was difficult to sort the gifts, because the ones Eninen brought were wrapped in newspaper and Kleenex. Plus, the names were just scrawled on the outside, there were (of course) no tags or anything. But the task was finally done, and each translucent received things like flashlight key chains, paddle ball sets, and magnets.

I felt kind of sorry for them, at least until the next time a piercing howl was unleashed, and my central nervous system almost said fuck it.

But, to be fair, it wasn’t as bad as anticipated. It helped that our kids and their kids got up at different times. And that the earlier booty had been stashed away.

After all the presents were opened, Tammy Oates prepared a homemade coffee cake (yum), the translucents took their 1940s gifts downstairs to the family room, and our boys played with their stuff in the living room. And for a brief window of time it was almost quiet at Oates Manor. Not completely, but almost. I even dozed off for a few minutes, my coffee cup tilted precariously on my lap.

But, of course, it didn’t last long. We’d barely settled into our comfortable semi-quiet existence, when Nancy shattered it by suggesting “a family hike.” Wha’? A hike?? On Christmas morning?! The kids were playing happily, for God’s sake, there was peace on earth, and now this? I think she does it on purpose….

Sure enough, the screaming and the tears were back in short order, as Nancy and Nostrils dragged their children away from their new “toys,” and began forcing them into bulky coats. It was utter mayhem. The neighbors probably thought there was an acid-flinging home-invader on the loose.

And I’ll tell you more about it next time, because I am Bill Oates.