Childlike wonder

Tonight, as I was baking a mountain of made from scratch cookies, it yet again caused me to look back upon my life. You see, in my house, Christmas was a magical time. I suppose in most homes it was. But me, I was one of those peeing-in-your pants, Santa Claus is watching me through the heat ducts, eat every cookie in sight kinda kid. And a tree with bright white lights and ornaments made out of Popsicle sticks and twist-ties was for more majestic and holy than any Martha Stewart Christmas catalog could summons. And that day, that one beautiful Autumn day, where the pinecones littered the ground and the air was crisp and smelled of football and red hot dogs..the day the Sears and JC Penny Christmas magazine came in the mail! Any child that does not recall this day, I feel sorry for you. At no other time in my young life did I have access to pages and pages and pages of toys, shoes, clothes, bedspreads, and everything else you could imagine...and yes, I could mark every single page and then write 10 5-page letter's to Santa Clause... and Santa Clause never judges.
Maybe I had a teacher once write in a "proposed" letter from Santa that if I wanted one of the lifelike Michelle from Full House dolls that I should ask my parents about making one, because unfortunately she was old and did not know I truly wanted a doll, not a baby sister.
And maybe, I had someone in the high school band try to give me a present my mother had bought through Tom-Wat which subsequently showed up on Christmas morning,
And maybe, when I got older, I sometimes wondered why my Dad was always able to fix my handmade Doll House that Santa bought me..
But through all the maybes, I never faltered in my childlike wonder. Even into high school I was unable to sleep on Christmas Eve, and now know if I stop "believing" Santa will stop coming.
As an adult, I miss baking cookies for 2 days, playing bingo and board games Christmas Eve night, having Christmas trees in every room, and seeing the quaint stocking hung under the Magnolia and decorated house covered mantle, or quietly hovering in my brothers room until finally, the most amazing sentence any pee-in-your pants kid wants to hear... "Fine, fine, we'll get up" from your parents, knowing that Santa just went to sleep an hour earlier, the piles spread across the living room in our respective chairs, and Christmas breakfast with half dead parents at grandma's house, nanny trying to burn your presents, and grandma forgetting to give you yours (not once, but twice), and then playing until finally your eyes were heavy and December 25th had turned into the 26th....and let me just tell you, Dec 26th has always been a bummer to me, so much anticipation for this one day and the next morning is just another morning.
I used to often wonder what other families Christmas's were like, and now I realize that at heart, I'm still ready to pee in pants at the first sight of a Christmas tree and Santa in the Macy's parade and dream of homemade cookies. The only Christmas that matters is the one we create for ourselves and our family, because that Christmas is one you carry in your heart and feel the warmth, like peeing in your pants, whenever you want...or forget to hold in the excitement.