Authors note: This is a story based off of my family's traditions, and mine as well.

Christmas morning:

Other families may celebrate what they please, in fact, my best friend celebrates Yule, or the winter solstice. My family however, celebrates that one big holiday that has all the songs on the radio: Christmas. Don't ask why, sometimes I don't even know!

Sometimes however, that holiday is a doozy. It never seems to come quite fast enough, but when it does it's over too quickly. That's my view of it at least. Let me tell you, it's that one morning that really gets me. Christmas morning.

You know how in movies everyone wakes up at daylight and has dinner at noon? Not my family. We wake up one at a time, usually before light even hits the horizon, by we, I mean the kids. There are three of us in my family, my eldest brother, my youngest brother, and smack dead in the middle is me. I wake up the earliest, usually around three in the morning. If not, earlier. A few years ago, I woke up at daylight, and it just didn't feel right to my brain to not be excited enough to call me out of a deep sleep screaming, ' HOLY CRAP IT'S CHRISTMAS! WAKE UP YOU LITTLE TURD!' Yes, that exact message. If not from my insomniac brain, then from my brothers. BOTH of them. Imagine the weight of a seventeen year old, and an eight year old, all on your body at once. That's why I wake up early!

If I recall correctly, a newer Christmas was the year I'm basing this off of. It was early, and I know I had been asleep, the twinkling lights in the living room now shut off, unlike when my parents had gone to bed. I don't think, without ever being told otherwise, that I will ever doubt the authority of the sneaky elf with many names, who in my family, was simply called Santa. That morning, I dared to take a brief look out into the living room. The previous night, my eldest brothers stocking could be seen on the far corner of the computer desk. Now, it wasn't. On Christmas morning, to know that Santa had come, the stockings would be placed on a couch or some flat surface, the tape we used that year must've especially not worked at supporting both our stockings and the loads of small treats they were filled with. I saw no stocking on that far side.

Carefully, as if I were going to disturb the big man himself if I did otherwise. I slid through my covers to find my IPod, at this point in time, it being the only safe source of light and time. Using the small button in the side, I turned on the lock screen. Now, if it were daylight, my eyes could've easily adapted to the artificial light my dreadfully bright personal music device gave off, but alas, it was still dark, and the glare of the screen shot me back in pain like a laser. I tried to focus. Finally, my now blurred vision cleared partially, I looked at the time. Not even three yet. Meh, it was better than last year. I could've sworn I didn't sleep at all that night, and went into the living room at four in the morning, only to realize that year, I had to wait for my regular and extended family to arrive. Ah, that was a fun year. We watched Firefly all morning in a marathon of our own, knowing the science channel was doing it. We however, watched that and Battlestar on Netflix, despite my grandparents confusion.

This year, I had actually GOTTEN some sleep. A small amount, but enough to get me through the morning. Still in shock of the brightness of my IPod, I went to my settings. Oh, I'm not sure if I should call it irony, my favorite word, or just plain cruelty, to put a brightness setting on a white page. Either way, it stung bad. My eyes were still watering as the screen faded to a nicer tone for my early morning eyes to see. Slowly, I adjusted the brightness back up, despite my eyes protest. Ugh. I then realized the movie playing in the living room. I had woken up right before the forever called, ' Bad Santa' Scene in the one classic movie that played for twenty four hours from midnight on Christmas eve, to midnight on Christmas. 'A Christmas story.' How I love that movie. I know every line from, ' I can't put my arms down!' To, ' Okay black Bart, now you get yours!' Such a funny movie. My family was nothing like that however, if anything weirder. My parents were military, but now they're nerds who know how to use a gun. My friends are terrified of my father, but I insist he's nicer than he looks.

We used to have two dogs, but our second dog dying due to parvo, all we had left was the older one, our asthmatic mutt of a Dorgi, ( Dashund/ Corgi.) Who also had a severe case of OCD, at least in my mind. You know those brown little bars in Kibbles N' Bits? Yeah, he doesn't eat them. He also has to lick everything. A spot on my parents bed will forever be wet until that dog either stops licking it, or dies. Whichever comes first. Most likely the second one. My dad has gotten close enough to kicking that mutt into the busy street just down the block.

My brothers, Oy vey. I mean, my eldest was six foot something, with four holes in his face, and a crappy attitude, especially during the morning.

My kid brother, he wasn't much of a morning person, but on Christmas? Oh, I'm surprised he wasn't up yet this year. He was so excited, I remember last night, he tried all the basic sleep maneuvers I had tried years back. None worked. I saw him drinking tea, Nope. Watching our yearly pre-bed holiday movie, Tried it, the movie was just too interesting. Our yearly Christmas movie was ' White Christmas.' Don't ask why, we live in a hell hole where it doesn't snow all winter sometimes. In fact, last year, it snowed in MARCH. Literally on THE first day of spring. Oh irony, how I love thee. This year it snowed, but really, it was quite uncommon to snow exactly on Christmas eve or day.

My younger brother was probably asleep in his bed , or my older brothers. Either way, he'd be sorry if he woke the beast that was my brother. Which he probably would. You see, every year there's one kid who's supposed to wake everyone up. I'm retired. Oy, I'm trying to wake up too, and stay awake. Being thirteen sucks. Your metabolism doesn't allow early wake ups and late bed times like that of an eight year olds. Besides that, it was my little brothers turn. I woke up first last year, and my rustling in the living room may have woken my parents, so I guess that year was my turn, the year before, to my untrained sleepy eyes the presents looked like the still discarded wrapping paper from the last night. I quickly hopped back in bed, in fear I'd scared Santa away. My brother hit me on the shoulder and woke me up that year. Ah, family.

I should say to you, this year will be great, but I have to go now, seeing that I haven't finished the story of this years Christmas quite yet.

Happy holidays! Author out (;3