Sunday is the best time to think of the week for me, and it has been a great week to think about. I played plenty of games with my brothers and sisters, and Christmas was enveloped in all of the most wonderful traditions .We watch the George C. Scott version of the Christmas Carol (like we have for the last fifteen years). It brings the most wonderful sense of gratitude and excitement as Scrooge learns to love those around him. After the movie everyone is wound up and ready for Christmas. Hints of Santa and gifts float thick in the air, and the children are all shoveled off into the older siblings room to keep them under control while Santa comes. Not much sleep is had, but lots of pseudo-washroom trips and excited conversations about what will be in the stockings in the morning.
             Meanwhile, Santa (who looks dreadfully similar to my mother) is busy at work gifting, stuffing, cooking, cleaning, and all other "ings." I stayed up until a healthy 3:00 in the morning this fine Christmas day and was still beat by that Matriarchal Santa. 5:00 was the whispered time that sleep found her in bed, only to have the rising sun and gifts creep up on her at Seven. By then the anxiety from the excited chambers of children was a current in the air. Stampering feet and hushed urgings to return to the room were heard. Shouts and whispers were needy to be quelled while we waited for the married members of our family to come from remote locations. The calming influence of video games, like an aura of tranqulization was necessary to keep them contained those last thirty minutes. I waited near the gifted room with a warm fire, averting my eyes when necessary to have the best impact in a few moments when the room would be unveiled to the most excited of audiences.
             A hushed Tory and Pajama-wearing Bethany (Brother and sister in law) finally entered the house. The word was given like a gun shot and the race to the frontroom began! Victory in order: Glory and Story, Jory, Then Autumn and Clory, the perfect example of youngest to oldest, the last members losing gracefully and calmly. Many gifts were given, and many were received. It was a joyful morning and tears were taboo. One would not cry on Christmas, nor complain of things not had. Not here, or Santa would remember and take it to heart; even if Santa was nodding in her chair. All a part of  wonderful, bright, Christmas Morning.