And there goes my dinner… again
If I was to describe my past Christmas experiences in one word, I would choose “chaotic”. Coming from a blended family with ten children, I grew up never knowing the prospect of quiet or calm. Most of my memories consist of household mischief, like sledding down the stairs on top of old mattresses or battling with Nerf guns in makeshift forts. We’re an unconventional family lacking any standard traditions, but throughout the years, I’ve come to notice certain consistencies when my siblings and I reunite.
Considerably the most annoying is what we call “The Good ol’ Distract and Snatch”. For this tradition, as long as I can remember, my brothers have been stealing the food off of my plate. Even worse is the fact that as years have passed, they’ve become experts at it. It’s usually something along the lines of “Dude, what is that?!” and as I look behind my shoulder to see what they mean, that’s when they strike. Half my plate will be gone and they’ll have a mouth full of utter triumph. Every. Single. Time. Its tragic, really.
Other constants include fighting over stocking stuffer trinkets and playing intense games of Mafia around a bonfire- reminiscing on funny childhood memories. But to cover all the quirks in my family would take an entire book, so in the end, our holiday tradition consists of making each other laugh, and maybe stirring up some trouble in the meantime.