Belated Christmas Stories

Okay, so I am not only behind in sending Christmas cards, I am also behind in my blog. So, to pacify my mom (who calls to remind me I haven't posted certain stories), I am now trying to summarize "Christmas at the Trahans". . .

Here comes Trouble, awake at 7:30 after only 6 hours of sleep (he usually gets 10), venturing down the stairs to see what all the commotion is about. What you can't see is Mom (me) cheering and trying to drum up excitement that "Santa came" as I simultaneously try to take the pictures. I suffer from insomnia on Christmas Eve. . . I can't sleep from the excitement of seeing everyone open their presents. You also can't see Dad (Mike), Grand Da (my dad) and Pookie (my mom) waiting anxiously at the bottom of the staircase for Mikie to descend. As you can see, the pressure of so many people watching got the best of him, and he had to sit down.

Fifteen minutes later, we finally made it to the family room to see what Santa left. You can see everyone standing around, waiting anxiously to see Mikie's reaction to all of the presents:

Evidently, it was not as exciting as we thought. In a sleep deprived stupor, Mikie surveyed the room full of presents, and immediately attacked the Elmo Tool Bench he got from Gram the night before.

We gave up, and started exchanging presents amongst ourselves. Eventually, we cajoled Mikie into opening some presents too (although the first few were opened with the help of his Elmo Tools). By the end of the morning, Mike inherited the task of assembling the Thomas play table. Unfortunately, Mike's knee is all that appears in the picture. I know my dad took pictures of Mike assembling the table, but they have mysteriously disappeared.

Mikie, later arrested for drinking dairy products while operating a train, puffed over the bridge and around the living room on Big Thomas. He kind of reminds me of a young Richie Rich.

Merry Belated Christmas.

Love, The Trahans