By Mike Ruffin
When I was a boy, Christmas morning was fantastic. It was also fantastically confusing.
It was fantastic because I’d get just about everything on my list.
I think the only reason I didn’t get everything is that it was an embarrassingly long list. Santa Claus was better to me than he should have been. But hey, it wasn’t my fault that I was an only child.
So I’d get a lot of stuff. It was fantastic. My parents enjoyed watching me enjoying my haul. They’d give each other one present. And they’d seem so happy.
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