“you got a problem with me? didn’t think so.”
I’d just like it to be known that the beautiful little Christmas dress I’m wearing in the photo above is not only covered in itchy lace, there’s also an actual hoop that hangs from the bottom to ensure I get that lovely southern belle look. You’d be pissed off too if you had to wear it.
And now I present Why I’m Always a Kid at Christmas Time, a link-up by Helene and I.
I still pray for a white Christmas every year and am genuinely sad if it doesn’t happen.
*I was starring in a play at the community theater this year and was extra diva-like because I was certain I was only two performances away from becoming the next Thora Birch. I was wrong.
Even though I know he’s not real, I still get just a tad bit nervous sleeping on Christmas Eve thinking what if… What if there really is a fat old man with a creepy white beard creeping around downstairs at this very moment?
I still hide from the mistletoe at all costs.
I could drive around for hours and look at Christmas lights while listening to Delilah share sappy holiday stories.
And because moving the little Santa one day over on my countdown-to-Christmas calendar still excites me every morning.
Almost every year I get sick on Christmas Eve and it’s never from drinking. It’s from eating pounds of shrimp, deli meat served on a tray next to other deli meat, pretzel sticks covered in almond bark, and anything else I can get my grubby little hands on.
I get overly excited dumping out my stocking on Christmas morning.
Doing the dishes after dinner still pisses me off.
I think my mom’s homemade chex-mix just tastes better this time of year.
I still like to wear obnoxious headbands with ribbons on them that would be better suited on a Christmas present instead.
I get antsy at church on Christmas Eve because I’m so excited to get home and let the fun begin.
I still sing all the side lyrics to Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. And same with Jingle Bells. Batman Smells, Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost a wheel and the Joker got away…Hey!
The tights I wear under my holiday dress are always two sizes too big and bunch at my knees.
I get overly competitive during the white elephant gift exchange with my cousins on Christmas Eve.
It’s not really Christmas for me until I’ve watched at least six hours of A Christmas Story.
I still get the urge to put my hair in “rags” the night before to achieve that perfect little ringlet.
Everything I’ve eaten for the day can usually be found on what I’m wearing.
I wake up way too early on Christmas morning.
And I get way too sad on Christmas night realizing I have to wait another 364 days for it to happen all over again.
What makes you a kid on Christmas? Link-up with Helene and I and share your childhood stories and photos!