Ringing in Christmas with a bang

My most memorable holiday happens to be a Christmas when I was just old enough to sleep on the top bunk. Being the youngest, I wasn’t alive during the fabled Christmas when my older brothers peeked, found presents hidden, and my parents returned everything to the North Pole to prove a point!

I don’t mean to imply that I was a good kid by any means, but the idea to go snooping for hidden presents would never even have occurred to me. Nonetheless, I was a party to the wisdom gained from that year. We took it very seriously. I never listened for reindeer (we didn’t have a chimney), and I didn’t look for Santa. As far as I was concerned, you could make up a whole year’s worth of spotty behavior by being asleep on Christmas Eve-Eve and Christmas Eve. We celebrated both. On Christmas Eve-Eve, we open one stocking stuffer present each. On Christmas Eve, we would open one regular-sized gift. Then on Christmas morning, we had to wait until everyone was awake, had breakfast, and made it to the tree before any gifts could be opened. These were the rules. So, Christmas morning, I wake up too soon. Bummer! I tried everything to get back to sleep, but I couldn’t.

Finally, I decide to swing my foot off the edge of the top bunk. That little bit of movement to help me get the jitters out, so I added another foot. Alternating feet was nice. Then I thought it would kill a few minutes if I swung my arm, too. I gripped the bed frame with the other hand.

Well, I’m not sure how long I had been asleep, but I definitely fell awake, right on my head. Gravity, my old foe! Was I dreaming about trapeze artists? Was I dreaming I had a tail to keep me steady? I don’t know, but everyone heard the bang and asked me what was wrong. “Nothing,” I said, rubbing my head. But didn’t I hear the bang?

We opened presents before breakfast that year. A fact I attributed to a deal Santa must’ve made with Mama because he found no naughty kids stirring.