When I was younger, I wasn’t allowed to open my gifts until 6:00 a.m. Christmas morning. For me, this was absolute torture. I don’t remember sleeping much, but I do remember spinning in bed that night, waking up at 5:00 a.m. and staring at the clock for a full hour. The minutes would crawl by, and the red digital numbers would burn themselves into my rigidly unblinking eyes. That last minute between 5:59 and 6:00 seemed like a year to my young mind.
Now, I wake up on Christmas morning whenever I damn well feel like it. I no longer sleep restlessly the night before and countdown the seconds until I can unwrap my hoard. The (admittedly lacklustre) gusto with which I spring from my bed is the same as any day, be it December 25th, June 27th, or March 3rd.
So what happened? Where has my excitement gone? Here are some theories I have developed:
Theory 1: I no longer have the Christmas spirit, whatever that is.
It could be claimed that I no longer get in the festive spirit. I don’t know if I did when I was younger either, though. I was excited for Christmas, but I think the prospect of getting tonnes of new crap I don’t need was my motivator. If someone told me I was to receive seventeen new sets of Star Wars Lego one morning, I was pretty jacked about it. Which leads me to the next theory...
Theory 2: I am less materialistic than I was as a child.
As a kid, I craved stuff. Now, I am a cantankerous twenty-five year-old who doesn’t care about anything, much less stuff.
Yeah, right. This theory is bunk, aside from the assertion that I am cantankerous. I think that now, in my (deep breath in) mid-twenties (deep breath out), I put way more of a priority on stuff than I ever did as a kid. Especially the essentials, like a comfortable bed, a sizeable lawn gnome collection, and a yo-yo signed by 1975 TV Times Yo-yo Championship winner and notable music producer Simon Harris.
Alright, to be fair, I only own one of those three things.
Theory 3: I’m old.
I have less energy than I did when I was a child; meaning I sleep more, and I sleep hard. I probably couldn’t be roused from my slumber if I was told someone was giving away free iced tea and bourbon. Therefore, on Christmas morning, I sleep just as late as I normally would, because my body would hate me otherwise.
Conclusion: A bit of Theory 1, with a whole lot of Theory 3.
I hope that I sleep in on Christmas only because I am old, not because I lack the “Christmas Spirit.” The older I get, however, the harder it is to not view the holiday season as one riddled with binge drinking and tax write-offs – both of which I wholeheartedly endorse. Bu they do not exactly coincide with the classic “Christmas is a time for giving” (or whatever) mantra.
I still get excited for Christmas, though. It’s a day off, who doesn’t? And you get to hang out with your friends and family and do cool things, like cheat at Monopoly, ski, or throw snowballs at passing vehicles.
But you’ll have to get me out of bed first.
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