Remembering Christmas morning as a child: He Says
By Chris King

It's 6:30 a.m. and my heart is racing. I am lying in a strange bed, and I have no idea what is to my right or to my left because it is swallowed up in a thick blackness. I turn to where there should be a nightstand, but my arm clumsily collides with a wall.

However, this is not the reason my pulse is pounding in my ears. I manage to find my way out of bed, stumble over mysterious objects on the floor and rush to the narrow stream of light emanating from the doorway. Panting, I throw open the door, exposing myself to the harsh yellow glow. I shield my eyes and scamper down the hallway on padded feet. When my eyes have gotten used to the light, I find that I am wearing red and green striped full-body pajamas, you know, the ones with the footies in them.

I race downstairs, my six-year old legs not carrying me fast enough. When I finally reach the living room, my eyes behold an awe-inspiring sight: a dazzling Christmas tree with sparkling tinsel and ornaments, and more importantly, dozens of colorful boxes underneath.

Of course, at this point, I still cannot open the presents, but they are splendiferous to behold. Very quickly, my attention turns to my stocking, hanging over the fireplace of my grandparent's house. I rip the stocking from its hook and check out its contents. A few of those matchbox cars, candy, a fuzzy spider, more candy, a candy cane, baseball cards and "What's this a bottle of?" Oh, it's that cologne stuff that Dad wears. Why would I want that? Anyway, I get busy playing with my Indy 500 racers.

Eventually, the rest of my family gets up, and soon we are eating our traditional Christmas morning breakfast. This includes these great cinnamon rolls that my mom arranges collectively into a big Christmas tree shape. They're even painted green and brown with icing, and they're yummy. After everyone is finished with our breakfast, we all get to sit down in the living room and pass out presents.

My family opens gifts in rounds: everyone is handed one present at a time to open all together. This year, my first round might be the best because I receive a huge Robin Hood Lego set, which is awesome. The next round, I get a stuffed cheetah that I name Dumah, which is cool, because cheetahs are my favorite animal. In following rounds, I get a mechanical robot thing, a baseball book, a model racecar, a tool set, a cheetah book and some other things I don't remember.

Maybe next year I'll get a Nintendo and a Gameboy, because my friend Brad said he was getting one this year. I think this Christmas is the best one ever, and I will play with my toys and stuff forever, probably.

Remembering Christmas morning as a child: She Says
By Rachel Martinez

I'll never forget the Christmas of 1988. I was seven years old. I remember wearing pigtails and a rosy pink puffy coat. I heard the faint jingling of bells, signifying to anyone 18 years old or younger that Santa was still at Nana's. This year it was his reindeer informing us that there were more gifts. But the trick was searching them out. We ran outside trying to find where the jingling sound had come from, expecting the gifts to be in the same vicintiy.

We ran all over the yard, looking behind trees and the shed, laughing and begging for the grownups to tell us where the presents were hidden. Finally, we found them stacked in Nana's barn on the hay. We crawled on the haystack, searching for the pile that had our name on it. All I wanted that year was a baby doll. Gleefully, I found my pile contained the doll that I named Emily. She had blond hair and blue eyes, just like me. Beside her was a small black case containing a shiny silver flute. I was certain I was going to be a musician.

I'll never forget the Christmas of 1995, either. I was 14 years old. Once again, "Santa" traditionally knocked on the door just as everyone thought all the gifts had been opened. All the kids darted out the house, convinced that this was their year for hunting down the yearly mysterious Santa Claus. To this day, we're not sure whom my parents asked to knock on the door. Excited, we all ran outside, expecting to find the gifts and toys in separate piles with our names on them. I found my pile of gifts, but I couldn't find the board game I had wanted. Then I turned around and saw the presents sitting on the roof, surrounded by sparkling Christmas lights. My Dad climbed on top of the roof and began to toss the presents down. "Rachel," he said, "Jurassic Park!" I smiled as I caught it. That year I was an aspiring paleontologist.

Christmas has been a memorable time for me every year, but my two favorite Christmases are the two I have described. Here I am at 21, and once again, Christmas is just around the corner. This year, I desire to be a racecar driver, complete with a midnight blue BMW Z3 (preferably with a light brown interior).

I think the next time a person asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I'm simply going to say, "A kid."

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