Xmas Day '09

Ann is usually not the first person to wake up in the morning, but Christmas morning was another matter. She wasn't up at first light -- considering the overcast skies, there was barely any first light -- but it was early enough for me to ask her to go "check the presents" while the rest of us lolled in bed a few more minutes.

She came back to report that the pastry we'd left for Santa was gone! We had no cookies around when Ann had suggested, late in the evening on the 24th, that we leave something edible for the supernatural gift-giver in red. So I put a small slice of Costco pastry on a plate for St. Nick. Its absence the next morning was proof of his existence for the six-year-old mind. She knows I'm a skeptic, and mocks me for it. (A few weeks ago, she asked if I believed and I answered obliquely, "Santa's for kids to believe in.")

By the time Ann found the plate empty, the pastry had long since entered my digestive system, but I let Santa take credit for the deed. She didn't suggest DNA testing of the pastry remains, but I thought of it. How conclusive that would be anyway? Exactly what would you compare Claus DNA to, to establish identity? After all, it isn't quite like figuring out what happened to Anastasia.

After that, Christmas passed pleasantly. Wrapping was unwrapped. We tested new toys and games. We enjoyed food, including a variety of sweets. Televised entertainment came and went. We read and napped and talked of this and that. Going outside in the cold wasn't necessary. What more can you ask for from Christmas Day?