Christmas and Torturing Children

Well readers, 2012 is here and I'm pleased to say that after a brief hiatus to enjoy as much time as possible with the two most important men in my life, Extra-Strength Awesome is back.

Please, hold your applause until the end.

Back before Christmas 2011, Lewis and I discussed how much fun we will have when our kids are old enough to appreciate Christmas morning.  Actually, mostly just I talked about how hilarious it will be when they are jumping on our bed in excitement, poking and prodding us to get us to wake up while we snicker with our eyes closed, pretend to be asleep, and then sluggishly wake up.  Lewis listened to all of this with a look of incredulity on his face because, well, in the three Christmases we had so far (at the point of this conversation) shared as a pair, I had acted exactly like I described our kids would act, while Lewis pretended to stay asleep.

I love Christmas.

This past Christmas, however, I had every right to get Lewis to wake up in the wee hours of the early morn.  Christmas was on a Sunday and we had church at nine AM.  Between presents for three, Christmas breakfast, and getting Jack fed and presentable, we needed ample time.  In your face, Lewis.

Jack slept through the beginning of Christmas.

I would share with you all about how different it will be when Jack is bigger, how I will play possum like the best of 'em, but we all know I can't keep that promise.  I will be on board, though, for torturing our kids and making them wait upstairs until we're ready and calling them down one at a time, excruciatingly slowly.

They're going to hate it.

Yep.  Christmas is the best.