On the First Day of Christmas, Ms. B Gave to ME…

On the first day of Christmas, Ms. B gave to me… an embarrassing family story!

It’s the Twelve Days of Christmas!

My family absolutely loves Christmas. We have a lot of traditions, and if we were to somehow have to ‘do’ Christmas without them, I’m not sure if we could deal. This year, I’m starting my own blog tradition. The last twelve days before Christmas, I’m going to share things with you. I will share a story and a thing. 

Today’s story is an embarrassing family story. This is easy to do because I have an embarrassing family.

Embarrassing Family Story:

My youngest brother, Matthew, is a nice boy. The story I am about to tell you is not going to make him look like a nice boy. But he mostly is. We all make mistakes when we’re hopped up on sugar.
When Matthew was little, he was a typical little boy. Except that he loved fudge. Absolutely loved it. He could eat entire trays of it (if he were allowed). And he was pretty much a fan of sugar altogether. 

One special Christmas day, when Matt was four years old, we had a house full of people. There were bowls/plates/trays of sugar in all of its forms: candy, cookies, and other tasty green and red colored items.

Matthew, while we were otherwise engaged, spent the morning going from tray to tray and consuming large quantities of any Christmas-ish items.

So by the time we were ready to open gifts, he was really just a clothes-wearing sugar boy. If you’d licked him, you would probably taste frosting.

Now, this was the extended family Christmas. We had already exchanged family presents, and now we were really only giving gifts to the people we hadn’t seen yet. Matthew had one gift to open. A foamy football. He took it and went into his bedroom, we hoped, to nap. Or at least sit and watch cartoons. Or do almost anything other than what he actually did next.

My mother and I were out in the den with the large group of family. Everyone was talking and shouting over each other, until a moment of lull in the conversation. At the same moment the conversation died down, I heard a distant shout, bordering on a scream. My eyes darted across the room and met my mother’s, who had clearly heard the same thing. She nodded at me, and I raced down the hallway to my brother’s room.

I found Matthew sitting in the middle of his floor, surrounded by little green bite-shaped pieces of foam. I watched in horror as he raised the football to his mouth, took a bite out of it, spit the bite out onto the floor, and shouted, “I WANT PRESENTS!”

What a nice little boy he was.

Needless to say, we cleaned up the football bites, force-fed Matthew some protein in the form of a hot dog or some such nutritious foodsource, and never, ever, ever told my father.

As penance for Matthew’s horrific behavior, I am sharing for free, until midnight tonight, my Word Work at Santa’s Workshop centers from TPT! Grab it free until tomorrow, at which time it will return to 3.00!

Product for Free for a Limited Time!

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  1. Thank you, Chrissy! I had a similar story…only mine was at my parent's holiday party and involved grasshoppers. (Not the insects, either.) When I was about two.

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