Why I Love Christmas

[krikkert]

In the newspapers and on various message boards, I keep reading entries written by people who believe Christmas is all about the presents. For many, it is. But in my family, you no longer get presents after your 18th birthday. I'm okay with this, because I believe Christmas should be the holiday in which we dote upon our children. For me, it's not the receiving of presents that matters, nor the giving. It's the perverse joy I find in the knowledge that I know what they're getting and they can't stand it, and the mind games we play where they attempt to coerce me into letting slip a hint. It's the part of finding new hiding places for the presents. And it's the incredible feeling I get when I see the look on their faces as they circle the Christmas tree wondering where all the gifts they didn't know about came from.
My presents are rarely expensive (but I spend more on Christmas presents than an average person my age, statistics claim), but they fit.

Before the presents, however, there is the Christmas Eve dinner (traditionally besieged at my maternal grandmother's). Oceans of gravy, enough pork rib to feed a flock of wolves, Christmas sausages and meat cakes to satisfy the Army were it to drop by. It's the kind of Christmas dinner that causes your tummy to sag to the floor and your arteries to groan just by smelling it. Sauerkraut, potatoes, carrots, peas, and flatbread.

So much for my attempts to lose weight this Autumn.