All the youngest kids, waking Christmas morning, excited to see what the wrapping paper will yield. Six kids are there, three boys, three girls, eager for the moment when Mom and Dad will come to their rooms and line them up for their march out to the living room, lined up with the oldest in back. The presents are opened, one at a time, and the rest of the day is filled with cardboard boxes, good food, and rest and relaxation in our pajamas.
Today, it’s almost the same. The six youngest are again at Dad’s house, only this time, there are some spouses and grandkids thrown in the mix. The excitement is largely felt by the six grandkids, the oldest of which is merely six. The location of the house has moved from California to Utah, and there’s actually snow on the ground. With so many kids and grandkids around, there’s not enough beds to go around, but there are several air mattresses scattered throughout the house, enough to accommodate all that have made the trip.
JP, the second youngest, arrived around 10 a.m. or so Christmas Eve, along with Mom and Lisa. He’s got the mattress in the kitchen. Russ, the second oldest, just got in on his plane, around 8 p.m., and he’s a little thirsty. The mattress in the kitchen makes access to the cupboards difficult, if not impossible. And so he steps on it to get a glass.
JP: (to Russ, threatening) You know, in some ethnicities, a man would be killed for stepping on another man’s bed.
Russ: (not missing a beat) Dude, in some cultures, we’d be married.