The holidays are fast approaching and I am recalling memories of the beloved Christmas specials that grace our television screen every year and put most of our favourite shows on hold until the season is past.
I have learned two things from holiday specials: Fruitcake is disgusting, hence being the butt of many jokes, and if your parents buy you socks and underwear for Christmas, you are not loved.
I have explored the realities of these statements in my adult life. There is little to say about Fruitcake except that it’s all about an individual’s taste. I only tried it once, out of curiosity brought on by memories of Jerry using a rock hard loaf of it in one of his many fights with Tom.
There is a reason it sits around.
But onto socks and underwear.
As a kid, you don’t see the point of practicality because everything is provided for you. Kids regard Christmas as a time of wants. They may be fine with getting books and clothes—or they may throw hilarious temper tantrums for mom and dad to film and put on the internet—but they’re more excited for the toys or electronics that they decided they absolutely needed after seeing the commercial.
But then you get older, get your first part-time job and start buying all the stuff you want for yourself. Christmas gifts were less of what you wanted on a general basis, and more of what you did want, but weren’t willing to spend the money on yourself. This was where I started to get difficult to buy for.
Being a student living at home meant that pretty much everything was provided for me. As long as I was in school, rent was not an issue, so I was free to save or spend as I chose. If I wanted a new game, I bought it. If a book caught my eye, I bought it. New clothes, shoes, anything I wanted, I bought. It got to the point where my mom explicitly forbade me to buy anything between October and December without asking her first. As I get older, gifts are less about what I want—though it is still a factor—and more about what I need.
And sometimes I really need socks. There’s nothing like getting six pairs of socks for Christmas when most of yours have gone missing and you’ve been wearing the same three pairs interchangeably for a few weeks because you didn’t have time to go sock shopping yourself.
So, kids, socks and underwear don’t mean your parents hate you. It just means you really need socks and underwear.
Granted, I think most kids these days declare themselves as unloved if they get the wrong iPhone model, but I’ll stick to the old fashioned complaints.
Ah, but this is a busy season, so enjoy your food and times spent with friends and family. May you get many good gifts, and may people’s faces light up at what you’ve given them. May there be laughter and hot drinks by the fire (or fireplace channel, if that’s what you’ve got).
To those who celebrate Christmas with me, Merry Christmas.
If you don’t celebrate Christmas, I hope the holiday you do celebrate is just as joyous.
To my fellow writers, may this season bring you inspiration of a divine sort.
I may not have a post for next week, but I’ll see you again, just before the New Year creeps in.