Tragic Sandwich

I’ve written about what we eat, and how we’re trying to balance different gift-giving philosophies. But what about the actual gifts?

Mr. Sandwich’s family would get up and go for a run. If you don’t think this sounds traditional, then you don’t know the Sandwiches–and has he got some stories for you. After that they’d open presents going one in turn, have breakfast, and loll about until it was time to go to the theater and see whatever uplifting and light-hearted holiday movie had been selected for the day. (Standouts include “Platoon,” “Das Boot,” “Empire of the Sun,” and “Dune.” The year they saw “Working Girl” marked a real sea change–although not so thorough a change as to keep them from “The Crucible” years later.)

Across the country (or halfway across, depending on when exactly we’re talking about), my brother and I would insist on a ridiculously early wake-up time, actually waking up two hours earlier, convinced that someone was breaking into the house to steal our presents. (We had a similar fear about the Thanksgiving turkey.) We would hide and play in my room until it was time to get our parents up. Then we would all head downstairs to the living room.

We’d open stockings, each pulling out one item in turn, and then have breakfast. After that, we’d move back to the living room and open gifts one at at time, with hugs for the giver after each. The rest of the day was spent playing with toys and board games, watching movies, and reading books, followed by preparing our traditional dinner. Unlike the Sandwiches, we never left the house. It was a lovely, cocooning day with immediate family.

Tomorrow morning will be our first real Christmas morning in our home; the others have all been spent with one or the other set of parents. We’re still figuring out what we want to do–open gifts? Save them for later when we’re at Mr. Sandwich’s parents’ home? Some of both? I don’t know if we’ll settle on something that is the start of a tradition. But that’s okay. Traditions take time.