By Gretchen
I heard the first stirrings downstairs around 4 am.
My 3 oldest boys were up, pawing through the gifts placed under the tree after they went to bed. I could hear excited whispers, muffled squeals, and giggling. I had no desire to halt their clandestine escape from the long winter’s nap.
When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was take an early-early-early morning tour of our Christmas Tree’s underworld with my sister. What was new under her boughs? Our tree was like Mother Ginger in The Nutcracker. Skirts part and children tumble forth in the form of brightly wrapped boxes with bows. Our empty stockings were suddenly engorged with navel oranges in the toes and trinkets in the legs. There would be walnuts.
Of course I wanted to look. I’d be disappointed if my children didn’t think of launching their own exploratory party in the tender hours of Christmas Day.
One of the best parts of the big sneak was that it took 10 minutes to tiptoe down a 30-foot-long hallway. By the time we were back in bed, we were chilled and tired. It never took long to fall asleep thinking of our triumph. We hadn’t been caught? Again?
We. Are. Good.
On Christmas morning, our mom would say to our dad, “I thought I heard mice in the living room last night.” He agreed. He heard them too. Better get some traps.
Or, our visiting grandparents would say to our parents, “You might want to have your mouse problem checked. Last night, we heard a lot of squeaking!”
It was hard not to feel the tickle on the tip of my nose.
It wanted to twitch.
Gretchen blogs at lifenut.
I must be the only mom who has to affirmatively wake her children on Christmas morning. Any other morning, they’re up before the sun. But for the last few years, we’ve had to rouse them from sleep to get the Christmas celebration going!
I’m glad your mice were of the un-alarming variety!