Being the youngest of six siblings, I was always the last believer in the family.
As my brothers and sisters aged out of the standard childhood traditions, I was the last believer in Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny.
As kids, my siblings and I used to bake cookies and leave them out for Santa. We’d get up in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, eager to see all the presents Santa dropped off under the tree, before sprinting back to our rooms at the call of our mother yelling, “Go back to bed.”
Then one-by-one each sibling stopped leaving cookies and stopped getting up in the middle of Christmas Eve night, until I was the only believer left standing.
One-by-one each sibling stopped looking for money under their pillows from the tooth fairy, and sadly each sibling stopped coloring Easter eggs and left me as the lone egg-colorer at the table with my mother. Being the youngest sometimes sucked.
Nevertheless, one of the traditions I shared with my brothers and sisters was the yearly cartoon classics. We’d all gather around the one and only TV in our house to watch Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, Charlie Brown, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
We’d schedule our world around watching these shows because you only get one shot to see them. If you missed it you were screwed. Back then they only came on one time a year with no reruns, no daily showings, and no viewer marathons.
These holiday classics are on television right now for the Christmas season, and every year, unwisely, I try to force persuade my kids to watch them with me. Of course they scoff at the idea and run out of the room, and I’d run out after them spouting my “When I was a kid,” speech.
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But my kids couldn’t care less about the classics, because the cartoon options they prefer nowadays are far more superior in graphics and animation than the snoozers of yesteryear.
And of course they truly are snoozers, now seeing them through my adult eyes. Yet that doesn’t outweigh the deep memories they hold for me.
Unfortunately, it’s now an ongoing joke for my kids (ages 10 and 14) where they smirk, tilt their sarcastic heads to one side and say, “Mom, Red Nose Rudolph is on.” Not funny, and just plain wrong on so many levels. Kids can be so cruel. 🙂
*Thanks to Lynn Chandler Willis whose blog post inspired me to write this.