My Brother’s Two Christmas Mornings
Growing up, my younger brother was always seeking ways to start Christmas morning earlier … and earlier.
As a person adamantly opposed to early mornings from a young age, I was never in support of moving up the time of gift opening.
One Christmas when I was about 12, my brother woke me in the middle of the night and somehow — I blame sleepiness and a candy overdose — convinced me to go downstairs and “just look” at the gifts he knew were already waiting under the tree.
I groggily made my way down the stairs to the living room sofa. There I watched in shock as his sifting through presents quickly turned to unwrapping them.
In stage whispers, we argued over his actions. He swore we wouldn’t be caught. But I knew that Mom would be able to spot the tampering instantly. Being the older sister, I would be blamed for having allowed this to happen.
Our dog sat by, listening intently to the exchange — but not picking a side.
I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, I awoke on the sofa to see the rewrapped gifts under the tree and my brother nowhere in sight.
The sun was up, and I could hear my parents walking down the stairs, accompanied by my brother, who that morning put on quite the show.
So convincing was his performance that, to this day, I’m not quite sure if it was all a dream. He opened each gift in surprise and wonder — just as if he had never seen them before.
Perhaps I took up sleepwalking for just one night.