MARY ANN FITZMORRIS / L’Observateur / January 8, 2000

For a kid Christmas is the best day of the year. My favorite day of the season is theone after Christmas.

Fifty-seven years ago my parents pulled off a wedding on that day, (Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!) but that isn’t why it’s so appealing to me.

The day after Christmas is wonderful mainly because I’m home. It might be a littlemessy there because we have been in the Christmas whirlwind for days, but I ignore it. This is the first day to actually play with the toys.Christmas morning allows only a quick inspection of the loot while Mom and Dad load up all the presents and casseroles for another holiday dinner with the relatives. Then it’s time to load up the kids, who are still clutching newly openedtoys for the ride to the festivities. My kids perched a board game on a casseroleand rested their feet on a ball, and the hip, interactive voice of the Bop-It-Extreme serenaded us on the drive.

The return trip still smells like casseroles, but the car is quiet since the kids are sleeping. Groggy kids are dragged back into the house, Mom and Dad unload thecar, and everyone collapses into bed.

But the day after Christmas is leisurely, with no place to go, nothing to do but relax.

My daughter strummed her guitar, holding it awkwardly, but the mish-mash of chords must have pleased her ears because she looked at me with beaming face and announced, “I don’t think I’ll even need lessons.” (Are we doing well on thatself-esteem thing, or what?) My son was a bit disappointed. He recently discovered a computer game so old itwas in a download package. He’s been searching for it since, and Santa didn’t findit either. When he complained about not getting it I reminded him that he was onlyallowed educational games anyway until he shows more interest in schoolwork.

“But it is educational!” he protested. I countered, “Of course. They’re alleducational. Increases hand-to-eye coordination.”I sounded like a commercial.

“Do you think anyone would buy them if they said ‘Fosters isolationist tendencies and anti-social behavior, and reduces brain to pap?'” He glared at me as I continued, “But don’t worry, you have that nice computer spelling game Santa brought.”He went on to the chemistry set in front of him. “And look at this chemistry set. Itsays right here, SAFE.””Who wants a safe chemistry set? What fun is that?” he wailed.

My husband assured him the box had to promise safety to get moms to approve it.

He explained that when he was a kid the one he had also had SAFE written on it, but he managed a few good disasters anyway. My son was relieved.I interrupted my son’s review of his loot to invite him on a bike ride. I wanted to tryout my new wheels, the old fashioned kind with pedal brakes. It was great fun, butthe bike is really noisy. I think the elves assembling it might have had too much ofthat spiked eggnog.

When I mentioned this to my husband it really piqued his interest, not so much about the bike but any mention of elves excites him. He got everything he wantedfor Christmas, but it was the elf activities that really titillated him.

My children have the most attentive elves! These magic creatures begin to sneak into our house right after St. Nick leaves, and they reluctantly give up their job asSanta arrives. Each day the children’s stockings contain something really unusual,like a heart shaped hole puncher, or something really useful, like gel pens, or really prized, such as Pokemon cards.

Not only do these elves bring gifts, they correspond daily with the children, in fascinating handwriting. My daughter’s elf wrote in snow! My son’s elf was asmischievous as his charge.

All of this thrilled my husband so much I’m beginning to worry about him changing careers. . .again. I’ve already gone through one mid-life crisis with him.If he does become an elf, I already see the bright side. When his ears get really big,maybe he’ll hear me when I talk to him.

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