My oldest son didn’t get the concept of Christmas at eighteen months old, not until we were at this stage, Christmas Eve eve. By then, we’d celebrated almost every day for a week with different relatives who came to stay with us. Every morning there was another family member and more presents. I’d had to coax him out of bed until we got to this point, and then he discovered this Christmas life was awesome. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I came to take him out of his crib the day after Christmas. His eyes were wide with excitement, and I had to tell him Christmas was over. When he awoke, the last person had gone home the night before…and there were no more presents. What a downer. He wasn’t ready for it to end. I know. It was sad and I felt like an idiot for not considering what would happen. Obviously. I’m still traumatised by the disappointment on the little guy’s face when he went to the tree and there were no more packages to open. Considering the non-stop toy dump, I should have just wrapped up some that he’d already opened, but hey, who knew?
This same child invented his very own Birthday Eve. He’s forty-one now and he loves celebrating. I will say, he is now the most generous. He learned young how it feels to get presents and he likes making other people feel that way.
So in honor of gift giving — send me your email address before December 26th at [email protected] DOT com, and I’ll send you the first book in the As the Chair Turns series HAIR OF THE WERE. Don’t forget to tell me what format you want. Merry Christmas from my heart to yours. ~~Eliza