Christmas Eve is a time of family gathering around. I have a confession to make. I many times was cloistered in a room with a sewing machine finishing my gifts. I have been know to be up until 4 am. Yes, the Hero was rolling his eyes. A fellow blogger said about shoppers who were agitated in long lines, 'Dec 25 comes the same time every year.' LOL, yep, my planning skills were just not the best in the world.
I took a poll among some of my children, and they told me that our Christmas Eve was a series of attempts at different traditions. We read the Nativity story from St. Luke in the Bible. We made cookies and milk for Santa. As they grew older, the older children got to play Santa for the younger ones. They liked that as it gave them distinction.
As it began to be late, the adults were playing cards and drinking eggnog. My cousin Dale and I were playing with some toys (yes, that means, I don't remember what we were doing) . Uncle Ed and my older cousin Darryl, who was home for the holidays from the service, began to fuss at my younger cousin and I to go to bed or Santa wouldn't be able to come. We went off to our rooms to get ready for bed. All of a sudden, we heard bells and the slamming of the front door. Of course, that meant the two of us had to come out to see what was going on. To our surprise there was a huge stuffed panda bear and a set of cowboy guns sitting in front of the tree. The panda was mine the guns were Dale's. They told us that Santa had been in a hurry because we had stayed up so late, so he dropped them off at the front door on his way to the next town. Yes, we believed him and were delighted with the presents. The next day my cousin and I played Cowboys and Indians. Wow. Innocent times in a different world.
(Many years later Darryl confessed to being Santa that year.)