Tikkabik

50 degrees and rainy on Christmas Eve means our chances of getting snow on Christmas are virtually non-existent, and I'm perfectly content with that -- though our kids are exhibiting a bit of malaise over our decidedly brown Christmas.

Christmas Eve is the day Bonnie and I let the kids open the presents we've given them, and James is very anxious for this to happen. He's already asked me at least half a dozen times when he can open his presents, and it's not even noon yet. Of course, this brings out the sadistic side of my parenting skills and makes me want to draw it out just a bit longer each time he asks, to make them all suffer for bothering me.

Bonnie and I have done a miserable job of decorating the house for Christmas this year. She actually put up the tree herself after I carried the boxes upstairs, and had the kids help her decorate it. Other than that, a few Christmas trinkets on top of the entertainment center (for lack of a fireplace, our mock mantle) and some vinyl window clings that James brought home from pre-school, we've got virtually no holiday decorations up.

Except maybe for Halloween, I'm not a decorations person. I don't get a lot of joy from it, and see it as clutter more than anything else. Some people -- even folks in our neighborhood -- get really into it, setting up elaborate light displays that must make the electric company's accountants giggle with glee and rub their bony hands together. I don't know why -- I really try not to be a drip at this time of year -- but I just can't help myself. Holiday cheer is not with me right now.