Vincenzo, whose cookie-decorating skills rival his father’s gingerbread house-decorating skills, created an army of robots and Santa’s alter ego, which he used to enact a rather violent play for his brothers.
For those of you wondering why I have a robot-shaped cookie cutter in my Christmas collection, here’s how Rocco decorated his robot.
Christmas Eve felt kind of weird. I hadn’t realized before how these two days of the year are already choreoraphed for us. Normally we don’t have to plan a minute of it; we just show up at all the places we always show up to. With all the gatherings and events gone this year, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. It felt like we were just waiting for the day to end so we could go to bed. At one point, Kevin and I made a grape run to the grocery store, just to have something to do. And it’s silly, but being at the grocery store with a bunch of other people wearing celebratory garb from sparkly holiday dresses to unstained sweatpants, the air buzzing with pre-Santa energy—it somehow made the day feel like Christmas Eve. There are so few chances to feel part of a community lately and to share collective joy, and standing there feeling it all made me get teary-eyed in the checkout line. I felt like Scrooge when he wakes up and realizes he’s still alive. If I had a shilling I surely would have tossed it to the first bare-footed boy who walked by, so full of the spirit was I.
After dinner, the Santa excitement in our house was cranked up to 11. Rocco and Leo were just like two characters out of a cheesy Hallmark movie, pouncing on each other like lion cubs, holding theoretical discussions about how Santa gets it all done, and giggling together their beds once the door was closed and lights off. As much as I hate watching those cheesy Hallmark movies, it is lovely to spend a night living inside of one.
Once the giggling subsided and I had a moment to myself, I sent a picture of my fireplace to my sisters.
Within moments, this poem happened, via collective effort:
The masks were all hung by the fireplace with care,
in hopes that the coronavirus wouldn’t be there
The children were nestled all sanitized in their beds
While visions of vaccinations danced in their heads.
I’m not even going to apologize.
Christmas morning was about the only thing that felt normal this holiday season. Papers, ribbons, boxes, toys everywhere, gifts that made the boys’ eyes light up, gifts that made us laugh, joy and yuletide bulging out the walls of our house.
After lunch, we went to my parents’ garage for a white elephant gift exchange. My dad won a pair of fuzzy Santa underwear, which he immediately tried on and danced around in, just like when they put the hat on Frosty’s head.
Oddly, no one wanted to steal them after that. We certainly weren’t going to trade our top prize.
Or our other one, either. (Look closely…but not too close!)
In conclusion, we eked out just enough family time and laughs from day to make it feel like Christmas, or at least something similar to Christmas, like Halloween + Easter.
Covid Christmas was like Vincernzo’s Christmas cookies: something was a little off, but a cookie’s still a cookie and it made us happy anyway.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Random stuff, including:
Ham & Swiss quiche
Frozen pizza (technically, thawed pizza)
Gnocchi with browned butter