I don’t know about the rest of you, but there’s something epiphanic about having a brand new lot of junk toys strewn about nearly every square inch of available floor space after Christmas morning. It comes hard and fast and there’s no turning back, because the fat man in the bright red suit is ready to dish out payback for moving that elf around every day in a sad attempt to discipline our kids for a whole month. Surely he sprinkles his magic dandruff all over the wrapped goodies, subliminally encouraging our kids to booby trap the entire house after they’ve released the final gift from its peril within festive wrapping.
The epiphany? For the rest of your days, you must keep your eyes glued to the floor, turning on every light for every room/hallway/closet in order to spare yourself from stepping/falling/tripping/stumbling/smashing/breaking/ruining/demolishing ALL OF THE THINGS THAT ARE CHRISTMAS!!
‘Tis the season for swearing, loudly, in front of your kids…for walking.