A little Merry Christmas to you, lovelies.
I hope it was bright and gay, jolly and merry, and all those lovely old words that the modern world has somehow rendered rude or embarrassingly outdated.
In many ways, it was a lovely day at Chez M-G. Presents and family and good food. But also, non-sharing kids, exhaustion and a leaking roof.
The usual mixed with the completely not usual.
Just to be clear, we are in the middle of summer here so a freak hailstorm? Strange indeed. I was having a little nap when it hit and the sound of the giant hailstones upon our roof was like waking up to Armageddon. It was deafening.
The boys had never seen anything like it so they were seriously buzzed. Then the torrential rain came and with it, a leaking roof. I was significantly less buzzed by this stage.
A crazy Christmas t'was this one. And the last one we will have as a family of four.
So that was two days ago and the kids got more presents than they knew what to do with. From the moment the sound of ripping paper tore a hole in the still air of Christmas morning, it was a frenzy. I did not enjoy it. Didn't enjoy watching my kids burn through their gifts, barely stopping to acknowledge what they had received but looking for more, always more.
I like to think we teach them the value of things and we're definitely careful about not spoiling them. But there was very little joy or wide-eyed wonder this Christmas morning. Just two little boys with a bad case of the 'gimmes.'
I am hoping it's just an age thing…?
Two days after the present opening horror, I was back at the shopping mall buying more toys. I stood in line, credit card in hand and shook my head.
I bought the boys Christmas gifts in the July toy sales. At that time, Luca was three and Ziggy one and a half. The age gap still felt significant. Just six short months later, that gap has closed dramatically as evidenced by them fighting over toys that one received and the other didn't.
It really pissed on the Christmas spirit, let me tell you.
So today I purchased another of the two most divisive toys so that they would each have one. I knew as I was doing it that it was a terrible precedent to set, that I was possibly making things worse but both Bren and I agreed that we could not stand the fighting. Again, I am hoping this behaviour is kind of typical for brothers who are four and two years old, that they will grow out of it eventually.
But I can't help feeling that we alone are raising entitled shitheads. Did the gimme monster invade your child's personality on Christmas Day? Or are we just royally fucking this gig up?
I don't know. But next year? Matching gifts will be the order of the (Christmas) day.