“I recall one particular Christmas when my little sister said her stomach hurt and my mother made her go to midnight mass anyway. About 30 minutes in, she puked all over the pew and we had to leave amid lots of dirty looks. Strangely enough, the same sister is the most Catholic of all my siblings today. I guess once you puke on it, you own it.”
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“I'll never forget Christmas 1983, when I wanted a Swatch so, so, so badly and had been begging for one forever. So I got one from my aunt and uncle and couldn't have been more excited to wear it to school after break and show all my friends. I was less excited when every one of them pointed out that it was actually a girl's swatch and teased me relentlessly. I hated third grade.”
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“When I was eight, my family had a hermit crab and it escaped in October. We figured it was dead and my mom had thrown it out and just didn't want to tell us. Cue to Christmas day: we are opening our presents and my dog walks up, drops the hermit crab in my sister’s lap and leaves the room. Apparently my dog had been carrying around the hermit crab on and off for 2 months and decided to give it back for Christmas.”
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“My two-year-old niece did announce on Christmas Day after services that she'd ‘seen [my] boobies and that they were bigger than Mommy's’ to a crowd of about 15 people (I had been babysitting her that week and had to lock her in the bathroom with me while I showered). I was 15, and the mortification lingers to this day.”
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