Little Ms. Bossy is an only child. You know the type: the spoiled, overprotected, bratty, spotlight-hogging, I want a pony and I want it now, doted upon, unable to share, doesn't play well with others, overindulged, bossy (hmm), self-centered, self-involved, selfish, for god's sake give her what she wants before she throws a tantrum only child. Yep, that's me.
Please, people, it's Christmas Eve. The least you could do is look mildly surprised. I'm not asking for a loud gasp of shock or anything, but throw me a bone here.
Now that I'm (arguably) grown up and have outgrown the "I want a pony" phase (although I want a baby blue Vespa and I want it now), most of the time being an only child doesn't affect me much. I have friends that are as close as siblings, and I live far enough away from my parents that the excessive doting has decreased by necessity. I even like to think that I've escaped some of my innate only child tendencies. Not bossiness, obvs, but some of the others. Maybe.
At Christmas time, however, the only child reigns supreme, and I am no exception. Elaborate wish lists are created, not so subtle hints are dropped, far too many presents are received, and childhood traditions are kept alive long after childhood is over. I haven't been at my parents' house for Christmas since 2003, but we're falling right into our old holiday routine, starting today.
On Christmas Eve, Papa Bossy makes a nice dinner and then I open two presents: a Christmas movie on DVD, and new pajamas. Then I put on my pajamas and the three of us watch the movie together. This is a tradition.
On Christmas morning, I get up freakishly early (my parents are thankful that the definition of early has changed some over the years), get my stocking, and go through it on my parents' bed. This is a tradition.
It always takes a while to drag my grumbling parents out of bed and get them to come to the Christmas tree. Then I have to wait while they make tea and make their way to the couch, all of which takes much longer than I want it to. This is a tradition.
I pick the presents and the order in which they are opened, usually alternating one of my parents and then me. Anything to wear is immediately tried on, and each present is discussed briefly before moving on. This is a tradition.
Once all the presents are opened, Papa Bossy makes breakfast and we laze around most of the day reading our new books and playing with our new toys. This is a tradition.
It's been a difficult year in the life of Little Ms. Bossy, and Christmas is going squarely in the Making me happy category. Maybe I'm too old to still be a kid on Christmas, but when I go to sleep tonight it's still quite possible that visions of sugarplums will be dancing in my head.
Here's to tradition.
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Here's to childlike enjoyment through all one's ages.
ReplyDeleteOn a day like Christmas, childhood regression of this sort is necessary! Tradition is tradition!
ReplyDeleteMerry Christmas and see you soon...
It's Christmas Day, and your sugarplum samples are delicious! So enjoy the goodies. Grandma
ReplyDeleteThis post was actually a little sad for me. I'm an only child as well and I totally agree with everything you have said about the Christmas traditions (I will umm.... skip ahead over the only child traits so I won't incriminate myself).
ReplyDeleteSadly though the traditions have broken apart for me a little and I yearn for the days of gathering around to give out the presents and the traditions that were the same from year to year. My family is small and many are getting older. We still get together and do the same things, but the joyous times when I was the only child in a gap of about 14 years are gone and I am a little nostalgic for them this time of year.
I'm glad that yours are still with you and I hope they stay for as long as you want them.