Christmas is a completely different experience when there is a child involved. I don't have a baby, and yeah, Christmas is always about the Baby Jesus away in a manger with no crib for a bed, but I am talking an actual child. Physically with you. Taking your hand in his little paw and leading you to his playroom so he can throw balls at your head.
As you may have already gleamed, I know a baby. He is the most precious angel baby ever in the whole wide world. (And tomorrow, he will be a big brother.)
Also, this baby is eighteen months old, and so, naturally, he is terrified of Santa.
Now, this baby belongs to my cousin. My aunt and other cousin are on the first aid squad in town. My town has a tradition -- the families of the volunteers receive a personal visit from Santa on Christmas Eve. So, as a result, the most precious baby ever came face to face with his worst fear.
When Santa arrived in an ambulance.
Keep in mind, please, my cousin's wife fell down the stairs and broke her ankle not a week ago. So my aunt ran right away and got the ambulance. I am sure there is a bad association somewhere here.
Fortunately, Baby Daniel did not see Santa arrive in the ambulance -- he just saw him coming up the steps and tried to make a run for it. Luckily, his mommy got a pretty good grip on him from her wheelchair. Poor little guy screamed his way through Santa's visit, until presented with a Wow Wow Wubbzy, which he proceeded to cling to throughout dinner. Things brightened up when the entire family sang Christmas carols solely for the baby's amusement, and he was further presented with a) Jell-O and b) several other Wow Wow Wubbzys, a tent and ball crawl combination, and a pile of foam balls. He was in hog heaven. So much so that it became a debacle actually trying to put him to bed.
Children. They're what Christmas is all about, am I right?
On Christmas Day, we do not have the luxury of a baby to drive conversation and create jolly sing-a-longs. Said baby has to go to his other grandma's house. So it is just my mom and sister and I, and my aunt, uncle, and other cousin. This is fine too, because it gave an opening for the political discussion I have been hankerin' for since November 4th.
Luckily, I got it. (I might have been asking for it when I listed our new president amongst the things I am grateful for during grace.) Unfortunately, because my extended family are all very conservative Republicans, this conversation really leaned more towards how children in urban areas do not deserve an equal education and how people who are not born in America do not deserve jobs in America. (These thoughts are not reflective of my own.) My uncle, being really a fair and just man (who admitted several times to watching MSNBC, which, really, I consider to be one of my Christmas gifts) said repeatedly that he hopes the best for the Obama administration, because the country is in a heap of trouble and someone has to get us out. My cousin, on the other hand, announced to the table that she knows Sarah Palin will be the one to fix all the country's troubles in 2012. Oh, how I laughed. And ran out of the room to relay this message via text to all my friends. (Curt's response: "How, with her talk show?")
Of course, the conversation wasn't really given to singing the praises of Barack Obama, because whenever his name was mentioned, my cousin immediately brought up Blagojevich and how he has marred Chicago politicians. My cousin also wanted to talk primarily about how we need to work to get our own education and no one ever got anywhere from receiving handouts. I introduced her to the kettle. (Kara's response: "Throw a drink in her face. Your family will talk about it for years.") I personally found it difficult to have a conversation when I was simply being preached at, but found it generally delightful to have the firsthand opportunity to see something I thought only existed in stories. Like a unicorn!
The conversation soon turned to the possibility of our neighbors poisoning all the neighborhood cats, and my mother and sister and I soon got the house to ourselves to watch the best of General Hospitals past. I am looking forward to tomorrow, when I will have two babies to spoil, and to hope that they will get every possible opportunity due to them. Because they are white middle-class American-born boys. (Maybe. It could be a girl. We don't know.)
Merry Christmas, everyone. And Whatever Higher Power You Choose To Believe In bless us, everyone.
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