In which our little Proletariat enjoys an American Christmas.
In Russian tradition, people celebrate Christmas with a fast that lasts until the first star appears in the night sky. Then they enjoy a meatless supper of porridge. No gifts arrive until New Year's when Ded Moroz (Grandfather Frost) and Snyegurochka (the Snow Maiden) bring presents.
Owen thinks the American traditions are way better.
As I type this, the last of the post excitement wailing is dying down and our little boy may finally be going to sleep. He's had a busy few days.
December 23rd saw an unexpected but entirely happy visit from good friends Daxton, Sherese and Doug (you can see Owen and me with Daxton and his dad, Doug, above). They brought an excellent truck that opened to reveal-- joy of joys!-- MORE TRUCKS! The gift-giving began with a winner!
The next day we visited Dad's family in Paola, KS at Uncle T and Aunt Carol's beautiful new home. There was the usual melee of too much food followed by flying wrapping paper. Owen was inundated by cars, cars and more cars. Said cars included the Batmobile! (You can see Owen's delight with it at left.)
All went brilliantly until Dad tracked mud all over the new carpeting and we had to beat a hasty retreat. Owen and Mom were invited back. Dad's invitation awaits the results of steam cleaning.
On the following day, Christmas, Santa cleverly brought a garage for all of Owen's "cahs." (Somewhere Owen has picked up a Boston accent. Robin now calls him "Mr. Kennedy.") It was a huge hit.
Grandma Hess came over a little later in the morning for breakfast and more gifts. At left you can see Owen giving Grandma a copy of his school picture. According to Owen, if you can't have a car for Christmas, you should at least get a picture of him.
There was a flurry of gift giving and receiving followed by an exhausted nap. Then it was up and at 'em for round two. We traveled to visit Grandma and Grandpa Henshaw where there were even more presents.
Grandma and Grandpa have many interesting Christmas decorations, most of which sing and dance. Over and over and over and over again. Owen couldn't get enough. Daddy may never listen to Christmas carols ever again.
After all of this excitement, there was a feeble attempt at a second nap. (It would've been more believable if we couldn't hear Owen chanting, "Hi, Cat! Hi, Cat!" while he was supposed to be asleep.)
At any rate, who needs sleep when you have a houseful of Hueys to keep you entertained? While Dad's cousins are great fun, the Huey cousins come in sizes a little closer to Owen's.
At left, you can see cousin Devon with his new toy chainsaw. Had we known, we might have bought him a little hockey mask to go with it. Devon's older sister, Jordan, kept the holiday spirit going by pretending to cut Owen's daddy up into pieces with the chainsaw.
These are the memories that warm your heart.
As always, though, there was a wonderful dinner followed by the annual telling of the Huey Christmas Story. This year, we were lucky enough to have the story read to us by Mr. Charles Dickens. You can see him pictured at left, too.
In the story, anytime you hear the word "right" or "left," you pass a white elephant gift in that direction. When the story concludes, you open the gift you're left with. This year I got some Bubba teeth. I gave cat butt magnets.
We don't often talk about the quality of the gifts. If we did, EVERYONE would want in.
After the white elephant gift, the real presents came out. As with the other events, everyone was too generous and Owen came away with games and books and, most importantly of all, more "cahs" and even some "choos" (which you mistakenly know as trains).
As you can see from the pictures, Owen thinks his family is generally pretty cool. And the American tradition of piles of food and presents?
Well, that just rocks.
