We had our Christmas morning customs, which were distressing for us children. But I remember it with partiality. I even tried to initiate it to my very own family, and it was swiftly pinched in the bud as mean, and that kids shouldn't have to undergo that deferred gratification.

Our Christmas tree in no way went up until Christmas eve. We would constantly bother our mother about setting up the tree, but we learned that this was really one of Santa's and his elves responsibilities. They were believed to put up the Christmas tree and put the gifts beneath when they were done.

Several years later my sister and I, wondered at how our parents were capable to set up, and adorn the tree, and put the gifts beneath in one night.

Christmas morning for us was stern, our parents made certain that a stern procedure was It adhered to. The three of us children would be coming up for our Dad's wake up call on Christmas morning. It didn't get much to get us up and past the bed on Christmas morning. I was typically completely dressed and at the door, ready to spring back down the stairs, as soon as I hear my father calling. I was generally the first one downstairs, and would turn up at the living room door only to be blocked in my path by my mother whose hand was pointing to the kitchen.

My father had all set a big nourishing breakfast for all of us. It contained all the grand stuff that every Doctor will scoff at – the bacon, pancakes, eggs, and homemade hash browns. He also made an eggnog, which would horrify most dieticians or nutritionists - it was made from unpasteurized milk brought from a local farmer and eggs. I appreciated this homemade eggnog recipe, and one glass would regularly fill me up. We would gobble up our breakfast and slurp our eggnog as fast as possible, only to be informed that we can open up our gifts once the dishes were completed.

Talk about buzzing and howling - the eagerness of opening the gifts was killing us! After much gnashing of teeth- this was torment for us kids. We would proclaim that all of the dishes were finished. Our mother would enter and check and confirm that all was in order. If she found something not to her liking, we had to remedy the difficulty. If our parents were happy that everything was suitable, we were given permission into the cache room to open up our gifts.

It was frequently three hours before we were permitted to begin opening our gifts. I chuckle whenever I reflect about this immediate gratification generation coming up that long before they could unwrap their presents. My children start buzzing and complaining if they have to wait 15 minutes for some lethargic bones to get out of bed.