Christmas Eve with kids

We went to David's family's house for Christmas Eve, as usual. We have been doing a family secret Santa thing, and I keep drawing one of David's sister's names - and that's fine, because she's easy to shop for. She wanted a gift card - perfect. Easy enough to shop for when you're on crutches! I hate being a boring gift-giver, but in this case it was all for the best.

I wore a pastel floral top, a cardigan, coated jeans, and navy snakeskin heels. Not that Christmasy, but oh well.

For the last five years, our Christmas Eve celebrations have included kids, since David's brother now has three kids. And I just have to say: all those people out there who are like, "Oh! Christmas is so much more magical once I had kids! You'll get all excited about Christmas again once you have kids!" are crazy. 

Christmas with kids is a loud, hectic example of why materialism is evil. It is a showcase of the worst childish behaviors, like whining, defiance, hyperactivity, selfishness, and disobedience. It's also a great lesson on the ineffectual use of bribery, trickery, cajoling, and debating in controlling kids' behavior.
For example - now, no one reads or even knows about this blog, so I can complain about loved ones anonymously, which is great  - the oldest nephew, who is five, spent the entire dinner shrieking at us. He kept hollering at us to shut up, because if we kept talking we'd NEVER finish eating, then he'd NEVER get his presents! I mean, kids aren't perfect, so I can understand a kid saying that once. But it continued the entire meal, while his parents tried to reason with him. "It's taking longer to answer you than to talk to each other!" "You're the one who's talking!" etc.
Now, I'm not a parent, but I was a kid once. And since I basically parented my six younger brothers, I know that you don't reason with kids. If I had pulled that stunt at a family dinner as a little one, I am not sure I'd be alive today to tell you about it. But no one did anything but argue with him gently, so we all hurried up our meal so he could open presents and promptly start envying his brothers' gifts. Great birth control, those nephews.

All that Grinchery was to say that between my intolerance for horrid small children and my hip problems, I think I'm ready for a nursing home. Now get off my lawn.