You see, I’m a serious Christmas person. Like a listening-to-Christmas-music-in-September, Costco-pack-of-candy-canes, where’s-my-reversible-reindeer-sweater Christmas person.
I get an adrenaline rush when I catch a glimpse of the cheery red and white pattern of Starbucks holiday cups, and I force my dad to spend hours cruising around town looking for even a flicker of holiday lights.
However, Christmas Day? Kind of a letdown.
Imagine it’s Christmas Day. You wake up just as the sunrise streaks the sky, trampoline on your parents’ bed until they wake up, groggy and mumbling about “you crazy kids,” and sprint down the stairs, skipping the last one. After a race to the tree, you tear through every present in sight.
And then…
Post-Christmas letdown (a scientific term for that awful sinking feeling you get in the pit of your cookie-filled belly the minute you’ve unwrapped your last giftcard) sets in almost immediately. The cure has yet to be found.
Christmas Eve has all the fun.
You’re cocooned in the cloying sweet smell of baking cookies, the Beatles Christmas album has you rocking around the tree and you spend the entire day drenched in Christmas spirit.
Christmas Eve is the day I live for.
It’s like someone took all of the best moments of the Christmas season, froze them in time, and set them out on the kitchen table as a snowglobe.
Christmas Eve is when you give each one a shake.
Merry Christmas Eve to all, and to all a good night!