Christmas, Part 2

Finally, it was Christmas Eve.  My sister put on a traditional Swedish dinner as she always does, and I ate enough meatballs to make my tummy ache.  I then squelched the aching with a giant bowl of rice pudding – or maybe I intensified it – not important.  Quit trying to make me feel bad for being a porker.

After dinner, Santa came to visit.  Eva was terrified and clung to my leg shivering in fear.  She wouldn’t go near the old boy and kept him in her line of sight until he was safely out the front door.  She seemed worried that Santa would sneak up behind her and cause some sort of bodily harm.  I, on the other hand, had no problem jumping on Santa’s lap.  I had many presents to request; a million bucks and a karaoke machine to name a couple.

On Christmas morning another Santa arrived.  Eva called him Santa baby all day.  He really was adorable. 

We opened lots of presents and spent the balance of the day eating leftovers and visiting loved ones.  What a wonderful day.

Santa managed to bring my mommy a diamond necklace but my million bucks and karaoke machine were not under the tree.  Suspicious?  I think so. 

Everyone was going sledding in the afternoon but we were already putting Eva down for a nap when the plans were in motion.  I was grateful because I didn’t want to be outside in the frigid temperature.  Eva awoke shortly after everyone left and begged to go sledding.  I volunteered Myke to take her, a proposition that upset him.  We ended up going together instead and I’m actually really glad we did.  Eva loved it.  She didn’t notice that it was cold outside; she didn’t mind that I rolled over top of her on one of our runs and slammed her little face into the snow; she didn’t even care that her cheeks were blazing red from the biting wind; she just wanted to go sledding.  I was grateful to witness her excitement.

Then, all too swiftly, the sad moment arrived when we packed up the car to head home.  I found a stow-away in my luggage and hastily kicked that one-eyed freak to the curb.

I always feel emotional about leaving and worked to suppress my tears.  When I settled into the car I slipped into my sunglasses and began my ritualistic sobbing session.  I hate to say good-bye.

Eva didn’t have any problem leaving.  She was safely strapped into her car seat munching on Cheetos and watching a movie.  She was oblivious to the gloominess of her mama.

I was fine a couple of hours later and settled in to the long drive ahead.  We made it home safely where Santa had left a dollhouse under our tree for Eva.  What a magnificent surprise after 13 hours in the car.

An even better surprise would have been a million bucks and a karaoke machine. 

You owe me, Santa.  You owe me.

Merry Christmas!