Or maybe it would be more appropriate to say, "Why Christmas Gets Better With Age:"
#1 They say to look through the eyes of a child in order to really relish in Christmas properly. Not so. When I was a greedy little weasle, all I thought about from the Autumnal Equinox on until wetting my pants for glee Christmas morning was, "presentspresentspresentspresentspresents!!!!" Of course I was, in part, mindful of the reason for the season, of course I felt stirrings of truthful manifestation in my bosom as I portrayed the virgin Mary in our re-enactment of the Nativity, and of course I was grateful for the life of Christ. But really, I would have to confess here and now on my small slice of internet that only time can hand one, or has handed me, the difficult and blissful experiences that are the consummate curriculum of appreciation for the Lord's sacrifice. The gratitude that vibrates within for my knowledge of Christ's overwhelming and incomprehensible Atonement is something that I hope (with continued effort on my part) proceeds to evolve and deepen. Maybe I've lost some innocence, but I've also shed some of the narrow-minded obsession with things, yes, things. I like to think I've gained over the years a greater share of the wisdom that leads us to feel more keenly the joyful significance of Christmas day. And please, as a favor to me, please please tell me I was not the only wretched child who largely thought of the boxes wrapped with pretty bows during this time o' year, because that would make me feel even more wretched now than I was then. And plus, would I really be right to believe you in any case?
#2 They (again with that lousy "they") say it's more fun to give than to receive. So how can a youngling digest that breed of fun? Since child labor laws were in the 80s what they are today, the most I could afford to give someone each bday or 25th de December was something a la gratis, that is, paper covered in crayon or a hug or a kiss. Now we all know my hugs and kisses are abstractly worth their weight in mighty fine gold, but (time out: that means no mighty fine gold...I take it back, my hugs and kisses are/were worth an elephant's weight in mighty fine gold...) since I became ripe enough to ingress my own smack, it has been much more rejoice-esque to bequeath unto the many disgustingly marvelous people who are my frequent associates THINGS to make them happy. I say that adulthood brings with it the soul invigorating experience of gifting. While we know that our own possessions aren't everything, it's nice to throw that out the window and impose materialism on someone else. Hopefully it is presented by Crap Wrap, LLC.
Line on Bottom: Christmas is better with a stronger testimony of Christ's divinity, the acceptance that things are nice but don't ultimately fix problems or singularly make us happy, but also that in the case of those we love, it is wonderful to transfer tangible niceties. Kapeesh?
And now I'm going to watch a movie and soak myself in home-brewed fudge, which, no matter how many rounds I go at it, never turns out quite like Mother Meri's.