“There is nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.”(Erma Bombeck)
My husband loves to attend auctions. I have to admit, he does bring home some screaming deals and he has willpower. We’ve both learned it doesn’t pay to bid and win something based purely on emotion.
A week or so before Christmas I was perusing a favorite auction site and saw something highly unusual: a five-foot tall stuffed Sylvester, Tweety Bird’s nemesis. I pointed at the picture, laughed, then said, “I want that for Christmas.” The response? “Yeah, right.”
I was gone the Sunday of the auction, and when I got home I had a couple of homemade end tables. After some magical maneuvering I managed to fit the newest additions into the perfect spots. I asked about Sylvester and was told that he’d gone for $52.50. “Who in their right mind would pay that much for a stuffed cat?” I asked. A strange look crossed hubby’s face, but I chalked that up to him thinking I was including anyone who had bid on the kitty.
As Christmas drew nearer and the gifts started to accumulate under the tiny tree, Sylvester faded from my mind.
Then more wrapping paper was needed and it looked like a trip to the attic was in store. I offered to go up but I was told, firmly, that someone else would go up. I started to wonder, like a kid, if maybe there was a big surprise in the attic.
I may be a kid at heart but I’m realistic enough to know that if we hauled out a giant stuffed cat to put by the tree we would have one freaked out yellow Lab and no one would get any sleep. Maybe Sylvester was at someone else’s house after all, and there was something else in the attic.
On Christmas morning I tiptoed down the stairs, but it was darker than normal. The softly lit snowman was still plugged in and the light we usually leave on was off. After reaching out the front door and grabbing the newspaper (yes, there was one that day) I came back inside, closed and locked the door and started toward the kitchen.
Something wasn’t right.
You know how you can sometimes sense that someone is in a room with you? My eyesight isn’t that great but my fear factor was notching up. I stood still and listened. No heavy breathing except for Sarah Jane snoring in the living room. No, there was someone or something in the foyer with me. After a second or two, I found out what it was.
I could have said, “I tawt I taw a puddy tat!” Instead, I think I said something like what Frank Barone used to say in nearly every episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. If you don’t know what that is, ask me sometime and I’ll tell you.
Big black and white eyes stared at me from behind a giant red nose. Sylvester was leaning nonchalantly against the grandfather clock just waiting to be noticed. Once I was over the shock, I had to go over and give him a big hug.
After the rest of the gifts were opened, there was one more surprise. “Oh, I almost forgot,” said my bargain hunter. “Here. The auctioneer threw this in too,” he said as he handed me a big stuffed Snoopy.
The cat and the dog get along fine. Sarah Jane is ignoring both of them as I sit with one on either side of me in the upstairs office.
Erma Bombeck was right. I’m glad I’m such a kid and I think more of us need to find the child inside of us again. Christmas morning is always better when the children are home.
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