December 21, 2017
Growing up, I didn’t have any patience for nonsense (and I largely still don’t). I never believed in Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy, and I told my parents they were either insane or liars if they expected me to waste my time on such melarkey.
Life is better with magic, it’s true.
I’m often asked if I’ll tell my own children (when I have them) about what a “jolly soul” St. Nicholas is; that during a specific time of year, bunnies laying eggs; and that the dead roam the earth one night of the year, alongside ghouls and goblins, in order to go door-to-door looking for a hand out and a party.
In short: no I will not.
I’ve been thirty since I was five.
I’ll tell children traditions. I’ll tell them fables. I’ll talk about magic, and fairies, and myths and legends. But I will not lie, or indulge in nonsense.
Do I think my parents did me wrong by telling me these stories? Of course not! They wanted me to stay the course of childhood. I merely wasn’t willing to. To quote my older sister, “I’ve been thirty since I was five.”
For the coming holiday, I’ve under promised with my friends and loved ones, hoping that I can over-deliver.
My shopping is complete. I’ve been wrapping presents since November, and the pile under my tree has been steadily growing. There are two items yet to be delivered from Amazon, but I don’t think they’ll make it before the package stripping begins…
My vacation begins tomorrow. I’ll be cooking my very first turkey this year.
There will be four family gatherings (one; a small New Year’s party). Between all of the excitement I want to finish a digital version of a drawing that I’ve been working on for some time.
I’ll more than likely end up cleaning my entire house instead of working on arts or crafts however … After all, downtime doesn’t suit me.