Three Year Old Christmas

Perhaps it was the fact that they had been waking up every day at 7am asking us if it was Christmas day, maybe it was the spontaneous singing of Santa laden songs, or maybe it was telling the boys to get away from the wrapped presents over the past several days; but it was hard to sleep on Christmas eve. Now, we had struggled with a three hour time difference since we landed in Boston four days earlier. Everything we wanted to do was either too early, or too late—breakfast was lunch, early morning cartoons were over, and going out to play ended when it got dark (which is around 4pm in Maine).
Of course, when I say we I mean Katie and I (especially for early morning cartoons) and not necessarily Ben and Sam who found waking at 7am in Maine no different than waking at 7am in California. Although we got to bed a little late (well, it was 10pm for us), I went to bed expecting an early wake up.
At 5am—nothing.
At 6am—snoring.
At 7am—there was a little turning.
At 8am—more snoring.
At 9am—I could not longer wait and was about to poke Sam until he woke up and remind him what day it was when Ben popped up: “I'm going to pee.” No sooner said then we were running upstairs. By the time Ben was done Katie and Sam had come up the stairs looking for us.
The rest went as expected, but I will say that this was the first year the boys really had a grasp of the joys of Christmas which consists in getting toys from Grandparents. They did not understand that opening one present (i.e. a rocket that launched into the air when stomped on) required immediate opening followed by several minutes of dedicated play. In fact, it became difficult to tear them away from certain toys. If it had not been for the mystery of the wrapped gift, we may still be before the tree in our pajamas.
All their gifts were a success, especially the last one which Sam recognized right away and provoked the joyful squeal “Optimus prime!”