We cooked a lot of food and we ate it, and we stayed up late and watched movies and we played Monopoly, and then we woke up early and opened presents, and I got lots of cute stuff, and then we danced around the kitchen to salsa music, and then we ate and watched more movies, and danced some more and ate some more, and ate some more and fell asleep.
Basically, that doesn't do it justice, but Christmas at our house is a really fun, raucous affair, so you just have to take my word for it. Post-Christmas is also fun, because it involves more eating and dancing and hysterical laughter, but more importantly, a new kind of fun has been introduced at our house:
That's right. Fun with guns. My brother got this for Christmas, and he and my sister's boyfriend insist that this is an airsoft gun and that it is NOT the same as a bb gun. Whatever. All I know, is I've had more fun shooting this gun at a little box in our yard than I've had with any Christmas present in a loooong time. I mean utter and complete, squealing joy. And that's the true meaning of Christmas. Playing with someone else's present. Oh, and Jesus. and giving. (Thanks for the striped cardigan, Mom. It matches the gun.)
*Disclaimer: we don't shoot animals at our house, because it's mean, and also because the only animals around are lizards, and the neighbors' cats, and the occasional bunny, so yeah, we only shoot at the little white box.
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