So after Christmas, after Boxing Day, it was still Christmas in my family. The way families extend and fracture and reconnect, I'm sure we're not the only ones making a weeklong affair out of it. People divorce, remarry, reconnect with the woman who put them up for adoption. Maybe it wasn't always so, but when I was a wee lad I had two living grandparents (and one great grandmother), for at least part of my childhood. My daughters have enjoyed seven grandparents (one, my former father in law, passed a few years ago but the rest are still with us). Seven grandparents.
So when it comes to scheduling a time when we can all get together, yeah. So two days after Christmas we did Christmas at my Dad's house. Which is louder than bombs because I have about a hundred young nephews who feed off each other. It sounds like a hundred anyway. The adults in our family are loud, too, talented at talking over the din of a hundred pint-sized horsemen of the apocalypse hocked to the gills on sugar, the excitement of presents, and the chance to play loudly with their cousins.
Which is both exhausting and my idea of a good time.
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