As we quickly approach Christmas, I thought we could travel back this week to the days approaching Christmas of 1983.
I had turned 6 years old a few months earlier. I had sent my letter off to Santa.
Now the patient waiting began.
The countdown of days.
My mom had bought presents for my cousins. I was enamored with what she had bought my cousin. A Jordache Cheerleader Barbie. Google it. It was amazing. The Jordache logo in red on the unitard. Pom-Poms. A megaphone. A booklet of cheers. And a BATON! Could it get any better? I loved this Barbie. I wanted it for myself. Was there any way to let Santa know that this was THE Barbie that I wanted?
Fast forward some days and the presents from my parents are now under the tree. I am feeling them all. Trying to guess what could be inside. Soft packages….clothes. Nope, not what I’m looking for. Then I come upon a rectangular package. Hmm… this is Barbie size. The top, bottom, and back are all solid. The front is soft at just the right spot for the thin plastic front of a Barbie box. But what kind of Barbie? Is it possible that I too have a Jordache Barbie? How to tell? How to know?
I try to peer under the tape line of the back. I’m pretty confident that it’s a Barbie, but is it THE Barbie?
Maybe if I just
accidentally press my thumb into the front of the package and accidentally poke a hole into the present. That sometimes happens when another package gets set on one. Nobody would be any the wiser. And I could end this gnawing curiosity.
Look at this little hole. Let me peer under it.
Oh my goodness!
It’s Jordache Barbie!
That should have been the end, but this was so exciting! Maybe I can
accidentally poke a hole in another. And another. And another. Oh, and what did my brother get? Let me poke a hole in his and see. And so I did. I discovered the contents of every package under that tree.
I was a genius! Presents get tiny rips in them all the time. Nobody would discover my little plot. But my parents were not to be fooled. While putting something under the tree, a tear was discovered. And another. And another. And so on…
I don’t remember if there were any other troubles that came along with this discovery, but I do have one memory seared into my mind. Our family tradition was that we were able to open one present on Christmas Eve. As punishment for my foiled genius, I was not allowed to open a present on Christmas Eve. I still remember being sad about the consequence of my decision.
We went over to my Great Grandparents that evening and some of my cousins were there. One of them told me that he had been allowed to open EVERY present. EVERY present on Christmas Eve? Sheer madness! That made the sting of not being allowed to open my one present even stronger.
That didn’t stop the next morning from being amazing. And there were still some surprises waiting for me under the tree. Baby Tippee Toes made her appearance along with a Smurf purse.
And, FINALLY, I was able to hold Jordache Barbie in my hands.
I hope that your days this season are filled with lots of laughter!
Let your light shine!