Since I was a little boy, Christmas has been my favorite holiday. Perhaps it all started when I was two when my Father decided I wanted or needed a toy train set. One of my earliest memories is playing happily inside the boxes the train set came in while my Dad put the set together and then played with it all day long. Merry Christmas Dad!
Later after my two younger brothers came along, Christmas became a group conspiracy with begging and pleading aimed at my sainted Mother who had to weather the annual assault of needs, desires and demands for various toys that held a heroin like hold on our imaginations. Merry Christmas guys!
I remember I always wanted a dog (this actually lasted well unto my adulthood) but we rented and the lease specifically stated "no pets". If truth be told my Mother had a deathly fear of dogs, cats or any other creatures that she believed did not belong in a dwelling with people, so being a smart ass I would remind her that the baby Jesus was born in a manger with all sorts of animals. This was called invoking the "big guy" and was clearly my version of the nuclear option. My father then would say something profound like "The question is no!!!" followed by ..."and your not Jesus". This from a man who started his working career as a Shepard while a boy in his native Sweden!