I remember when this was always the official start to Christmas. And by start, I mean, as children, we knocked down our stockings before worrying about any wrapped gifts. These were always full of candy and small goodies, or gag gifts as we got older. And considering the tearing apart of presents happened before breakfast happened, the sweets didn’t last long.
Our stockings never actually hung in front of a real fire. Perhaps when my youngest sister was still a baby at one of the houses, but my mom never wanted our tree in the family room at our final house. It was to far from the center of the household, so she made my dad buy a huge gas fireplace for the living room. That’s where the tree stood, and that’s where the stockings hung.
They all also had our names on them. Very cheaply, with sparkly puffy paint. But I think I’ve gotten used to that. It’s more of a tradition now. Or so I tell myself, as it’s simply easier to keep track of whose stocking is whose this way. Makes my holiday season easier. My memory is fading in my old age..
dead girl swimming 