spynotes ::
  December 09, 2006
Here comes Suzy Snowflake

Scene: A local kid-friendly restaurant. Harriet, AJ and AJ�s friend D. are sitting at a table waiting for their lunch and also for D�s mom who�s picking up his little brother from preschool.

Harriet: So, D., have you seen Santa yet?

D.: No, not yet.

Harriet: Well, when you see him, what are you going to ask him for?

D.: I really want a Roboraptor. It�s a robot dinosaur. But it�s $100.

Harriet: Wow, that�s a lot. I hope you�ve been really good this year.

D.: (looking very grave and earnest) Oh, I have!

AJ: I�ve been pretty good too, haven�t I, Mommy?

Harriet: Yes, you have.

D.: Well, that�s easy for you. You don�t have any brothers.

* * * * *

Ah, yes. The siblings who get you into trouble. AJ is neither blessed nor cursed with them. AJ is still pining for a baby, but he is also driven to distraction by D�s little brother, almost as much as D. himself. I know all about little brothers.

My own little brother, however, has turned out okay in the end. We got a big package from him this week, sent in a box advertising �Duck cleaner� in English and Thai. I�m assuming that�s not for cleaning actual ducks. Inside was a stash of parcels wrapped in brown paper carefully decorated by my nieces with assorted pictures of Christmas items rendered in crayon and tied with cheery green ribbons. One package was marked, �Open A.S.A.P.!!!� So of course we did. Inside we found a fabric advent calendar with pockets for each day of advent, in which small treats could be stashed and decorated with small teddy bears, stuffed candy canes, fabric presents, and little santa bags. It has dressed up my kitchen immensely, which is nice, but it has also totally made my Christmas because of its meaning.

Many years ago, my family moved to England when I was nine and my brother was five. That year we all got sick a lot with all the unfamiliar germs we had not encountered stateside. But my brother was the sickest of all. In fact, he was so sick that words were whispered behind closed doors that I wasn�t allowed to hear. Right before that first Christmas, my brother was sent to the hospital for an operation that was mysterious to me but was apparently a biopsy. He came home Christmas Eve (at least as I remember it), groggy and sick. He was starting to question the existence of Santa Claus. We lived in a flat now. There was now no chimney. How would he get here? I told him how Santa could make himself and his sleigh really small -- �Remember the eight tiny reindeer? � and could slip through our mail slot. He bought it and Christmas did not fall apart. Still, I staged an elaborate Christmas morning show for him for good measure and he was feeling better.. Thus began a long family history of Christmas morning entertainment. It also changed the way I thought about Christmas and after that I always felt a little bit like I had to take care of my little brother. The following year, my family of four started a game of Secret Santas. We each drew a name and left surprise gifts every day for a week. My dad had me and turned out, unexpectedly, to be a poet, leaving poems � sometimes beautiful, sometimes silly � each day along with a sweet treat or an ornament or a small toy. I still have the poems and the ornaments. When we moved back to the states, we abandoned the secret Santas � it had been a little silly, since there was no way to be secret. But that year I decided to make my brother an advent calendar. My mom helped my buy felt and a wooden dowel, gold rick-rack and beautiful red and green and gold cord. I sewed it all myself, my first ever project on a sewing machine. I trimmed it and using yarn and leftover felt, glued a little snow scene at the top. I filled it every year until I went college, using my own allowance, and later, my earnings from my after school job. It was one of my favorite Christmas traditions. I always loved finding surprising things and watching him open them. He, of course, loved getting presents.

I�d forgotten all about the advent calendar, but I know my brother didn�t. I know his sending this calendar to AJ is also reminding me of our good family times a long time ago. It�s his way of thanking me. And it meant a lot.

So hang in there, D. Little brothers sometimes get better.

* * * * *

I realize I have been entirely too full of Christmas schmaltz lately (is it possible to be full of Christmas schmaltz? I have a feeling that�s not allowed). But even I have my limits. AJ has been obsessively demanding to listen to the annoying all-Christmas-music station in the car and usually I humor him, but last night I heard this one and it made me want to set my hair on fire. I think it is entirely possible that this is the worst song ever written.

* * * * *

And now that we�re all full of Christmasy good cheer, we�re about to head to our neighborhood�s annual Christmas party up the hill at the barn. We have it on good authority that the man in the red suit will put in an appearance. There may be pictures later.

8 people said it like they meant it

 
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