I hope you all had a lovely Christmas. Mine was great, quiet with just my sister, bro-in-law and mom representing my family (we’re a small family), but I always like to think about the Christmases of my youth, where I was sick with excitement and lay awake all night in anticipation of the joys the morning would bring. My adult Christmases are a child-free affair, and while we all do a good job of acting like kids ourselves, I can’t help but feel that some level of manic excitement, perhaps the real meaning of Christmas, is missing.
When I was a kid, we were poor as dirt, but that made the scant few presents my sister and I received even more valuable. The other brilliant part of Christmas was playing games with my family, and still is (this year we played Cranium WOW). Â I know I’m an old cynic, but I see friends’ kids today receiving thirty or forty gifts each and I feel a little sad for them, even though the ‘lesson’ of value that one gains through poverty isn’t something I should wish on anyone. But I do feel that the vast number of toys bestowed on these kids is a tad crass and possibly not that healthy. What do I know, I’m not a parent. Perhaps I’d spoil my kid if I was, or maybe I’d limit their gifts to a handful of meaningful things like I hope I would.
How does your adult Christmas compare to your childhood experience?
The Afternoon Inquisition (or AI) is a question posed to you, the Skepchick community. Look for it to appear daily at 3pm ET.