My House

We sit in the church kitchen, nibbling impatiently on finger foods prepared by those man old ladies who are all related to each other one way or another while our parents chat with friends they rarely get to see. "Sarah, how much longer?" my little sister asks as she returns to the table, no doubt having failed to convince Mom and Dad we should go home. I manage to placate her by offering her my last chocolate chip cookie.
Finally, my dad lays a hand on my shoulder, "Well, Sarah-Claira, you just about ready to head to the house?" he asks, setting the car keys on the table next to my hand. Jake and Cassie answer for me by bolting for the door letting in a cold gust of frosty December air.
Twenty minutes later we are all sitting on the floor of our living room, a neatly wrapped box handed to each of us by my mother. Cassie rips into hers vigorously, even though we know what the contents of the presents are. "I love it!" she squeals as she pulls out a new pair of pajamas. I smile and watch Jake explode with victory at the Texas Longhorn pajama pants, the burnt orange material no doubt matching the blood diluted with his hometown pride flowingin his veins.
Finally, I rip away the paper and pull off the top of the box to reveal a new pair of Gir pajama pants and matching hoodie, the tags from Hot Topic still dangling from the hem of the new clothing. After a heart-felt thank you from us all and a quick clothing change, my siblings and I enjoy a make-shift Christmas party, in the playroom consisting of making hot chocolate, munching on leftovers from church andwatching movies. We always have a blast...
3 a.m....
My brother and I finally see that "Santa Clause" has come and gone, the glittering lights casting a magical glow against the metallic wrapping paper. We wake up our parents, shoving cups of coffee into their hands as they stumble into the den after us to watch us unwrap our gifts in the wee hours of Christmas morning.