THE SONIC BOOMER
My grandchildren have gone completely insane.
Orion, age 3, completely understands that a man with a white beard is going to bring him presents. Tess, at 14 months, merely feeds off her brother’s excitement, screaming and precariously toddling lickety-split around the house with her hands in the air until she falls.
It’s magical alright.
There’s not room enough in this column to write all the funny things they say and do, even if I keep it to Christmastime stuff alone.
For instance, Orion was worried sick that he wasn’t being good enough to get toys from Santa Claus. “Sometimes I not good,” he confessed quietly. “Sometimes I bad.” Bad. People are dying in massacres and this little guy crinkles his brow in torment because he grabbed a toy rolling pin from his sister. I had to remind him of all the good things that he has done this year so he could relax.
Tess is probably much more “bad,” but she is too young to have a conscience, so nothing she does counts. She is systematically undecorating the tree, stepping on ornaments, licking the lights — anything she can get away with when we’re not looking.
Last night, presumably because he was in a festive mood, Orion wrapped several yards of ribbon around his neck until we all hollered, “Stop that! You’re going to choke yourself!” Then he started gagging and, in unison, we yelled, “Are you OK?” Evidently we had scared him, because his frantic reply was, “I’m choking myself!”
But it’s not all worry and fear with that kid. He also has the responsibility of taking any present that comes into the house and putting it under the tree. He has great fun with this but, unfortunately, already knows how to read his name. He will excitedly scan each tag looking for it, sometimes ending up crestfallen. Last week he grabbed one gift and said, “A big onae! Maybe it for me!” Then there was there a careful studying of the tag followed by the saddest voice you ever heard saying, “No. It not for me… I sad it not for me.”
Worry, fear and sadness. Super holiday fun!
On the other hand, Tess is joyful 100 percent of the time. She absolutely loves that there is a gigantic tree in the house; that there are cookies available nearly on demand; and that Orion is there as the announcer. He’s the John Madden of Christmas, explaining even the most rudimentary things to her. She revels in the attention.
“What you want for Christmas, Tessie?” Orion asks.
“Goo-goo, gaga,” she replies.
“I think Santa has room for that on his sleigh!”
A small celebration ensues, with much jumping up and down, clapping of hands and Tess’s signature one-foot tap and twirl that means she’s dancing. Until she falls.
Orion himself has asked Santa (twice) for a flying lawn mower. The elves are in fits over that one. And if he’s talking about a riding mower, we’re all in big trouble.
So the big day is looming large for the little ones, but my favorite time may well be the 24 days leading up to it. The excitement! The anticipation! The hilarity! If I could bottle that joy and sell it, I’d never have to work again. And it truly would be Christmas every day of the year.
