I came to live in this house, for Bobby’s first Christmas. I was always thankful for my place on the mantle, safe from baby hands but with a good view of the tree. I watched many a glass ornament be grabbed out of Bobby’s hands and placed higher in the branches safely out of baby reach. I so enjoyed watching the holiday parties held by the Bobwhites, especially the glimpses of each of the boys and yes, even Daddy, catching their special girl under the mistletoe for a chaste seasonal kiss.
After Christmas, I would spend the rest of the year, hidden in the dark corners of the attic wrapped in tissue paper to protect the thin glass skin ornaments in the pretty red and green colors that dressed my waxy core like a fine holiday garment. I would wait patiently for the holiday cleaning before the Thanksgiving Open House, when I would be gently dusted and placed back on the fireplace mantle
When Moms first put me on the kitchen table this year, I was very disappointed. I worried that for some reason I had been demoted from the gaety of the living room. Oh how wrong I was. Maybe it was because Bobby is older, and Moms doesn’t have to worry so much about careless curious hands, but I learned that I had been missing so much fun not being in the kitchen.
I saw cooking and cookie baking. I was able to see the squabbles between Trixie and Mart, and the gentle inteference by Brian which would bring peace between the almost twins. I watched how Mart teased Bobby to be good so the shelf elf would not make a naughty report to Santa. I watched all the Beldens, from Bobby all the way up to Daddy, open the silverware drawer and pull out a spoon and then open the refridgerator and poke their heads in to get a spoonfull of sweet, cold, cookie dough. I wanted to laugh when Moms said that she ought to make extra dough just for eating from the spoon.
And I learned about the family tradition of counting wood.
One day, Moms was in the kitchen on the phone with Uncle Andrew and even a christmas ornament could be detective enough to know that she was talking about Christmas presents. All the Bobwhites were gathering in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go spend an afternoon in the snow. Moms had confirmed Uncle Andrews ideas for everyone except Bobby. Mart and Bobby were clomping down the stairs, and Mart was trying to convince Bobby that if he rubbed his hands together really hard, they would smell like peanut butter. You know, that old trick to get the innocent to slap themselves? But Moms had other ideas.
Moms said, “Bobby, I need to know that we can have a good fire tonight. You go out to the shed and count the wood.”
After Christmas, I would spend the rest of the year, hidden in the dark corners of the attic wrapped in tissue paper to protect the thin glass skin ornaments in the pretty red and green colors that dressed my waxy core like a fine holiday garment. I would wait patiently for the holiday cleaning before the Thanksgiving Open House, when I would be gently dusted and placed back on the fireplace mantle
When Moms first put me on the kitchen table this year, I was very disappointed. I worried that for some reason I had been demoted from the gaety of the living room. Oh how wrong I was. Maybe it was because Bobby is older, and Moms doesn’t have to worry so much about careless curious hands, but I learned that I had been missing so much fun not being in the kitchen.
I saw cooking and cookie baking. I was able to see the squabbles between Trixie and Mart, and the gentle inteference by Brian which would bring peace between the almost twins. I watched how Mart teased Bobby to be good so the shelf elf would not make a naughty report to Santa. I watched all the Beldens, from Bobby all the way up to Daddy, open the silverware drawer and pull out a spoon and then open the refridgerator and poke their heads in to get a spoonfull of sweet, cold, cookie dough. I wanted to laugh when Moms said that she ought to make extra dough just for eating from the spoon.
And I learned about the family tradition of counting wood.
One day, Moms was in the kitchen on the phone with Uncle Andrew and even a christmas ornament could be detective enough to know that she was talking about Christmas presents. All the Bobwhites were gathering in the kitchen, dressed and ready to go spend an afternoon in the snow. Moms had confirmed Uncle Andrews ideas for everyone except Bobby. Mart and Bobby were clomping down the stairs, and Mart was trying to convince Bobby that if he rubbed his hands together really hard, they would smell like peanut butter. You know, that old trick to get the innocent to slap themselves? But Moms had other ideas.
Moms said, “Bobby, I need to know that we can have a good fire tonight. You go out to the shed and count the wood.”
Brian, Mart and Trixie suddenly swiviled their heads toward Bobby with huge grins on their faces, but Dan and Jim both looked at Moms in astonishment. Jim volunteered, “We’ll go out for you Mrs. B, and bring in some good armloads of wood.”
Before the offer was clear of Jim’s mouth, I saw Mart gave Dan a shoulder shove.
Before the offer was clear of Jim’s mouth, I saw Mart gave Dan a shoulder shove.
He ordered, “No, I need Dan to help me find the ski wax at the clubhouse.”
Brian turned to Jim. “I need you, Honey and Di to help Trixie and I with the Christmas lights out front. I think one of the lines is trying to come down.”
I saw the other Bobwhites spin in surprise to look at the older Belden siblings and watched all three of them with huge grins on their faces, and their hands in front of their mouths signalling to be quiet.
Mart wheeled around to Bobby. “Well, go on, get your coat on. And when you get out there, make sure you count every piece. Sometimes little pieces that are good for kindling get pushed way in the back.”
Mom’s returned, “Yes Bobby, all the older kids started counting wood for me when they were ten, but I really think you are old enough to handle the job for me even though you are only nine. Hurry up, and I will have some nice hot chocolate with marshmallows ready when you are done.”
After Bobby went outside, Moms returned to her phone call with Uncle Andrew. “Go ahead Andy, Bobby is safely out of earshot now and we can talk in peace.”
Mart, and Trixie doubled over in laughter with tears running down their face. Brian made the effort to shush them while trying to hold back his own laughter. “If you don’t settle down, he will hear you, and this won’t ever work for Moms again.”
Brian looked at Di. “You have younger siblings, so you ought to be famialiar with this.”
Mart looked at Dan, Jim and Honey. “Moms used to use the military phonetic alphabet when she had to say something in front of us kids that she didn’t want us to understand. But when each of us finally broke that code, she knew that she had to instigate the next level of parental subtrafuge. She sent us out to the shed and told us to count wood. Every one of us was gullible enough to fall for it every time.”
You know, if I weren’t sitting around this candle, and if I hadn’t heard it myself, I never would have believed that Moms would be so sneaky.
Maybe during the next year in the attic I will be able to hear some good stories on Moms if she will pack me in the same box with that shelf elf.
Brian turned to Jim. “I need you, Honey and Di to help Trixie and I with the Christmas lights out front. I think one of the lines is trying to come down.”
I saw the other Bobwhites spin in surprise to look at the older Belden siblings and watched all three of them with huge grins on their faces, and their hands in front of their mouths signalling to be quiet.
Mart wheeled around to Bobby. “Well, go on, get your coat on. And when you get out there, make sure you count every piece. Sometimes little pieces that are good for kindling get pushed way in the back.”
Mom’s returned, “Yes Bobby, all the older kids started counting wood for me when they were ten, but I really think you are old enough to handle the job for me even though you are only nine. Hurry up, and I will have some nice hot chocolate with marshmallows ready when you are done.”
After Bobby went outside, Moms returned to her phone call with Uncle Andrew. “Go ahead Andy, Bobby is safely out of earshot now and we can talk in peace.”
Mart, and Trixie doubled over in laughter with tears running down their face. Brian made the effort to shush them while trying to hold back his own laughter. “If you don’t settle down, he will hear you, and this won’t ever work for Moms again.”
Brian looked at Di. “You have younger siblings, so you ought to be famialiar with this.”
Mart looked at Dan, Jim and Honey. “Moms used to use the military phonetic alphabet when she had to say something in front of us kids that she didn’t want us to understand. But when each of us finally broke that code, she knew that she had to instigate the next level of parental subtrafuge. She sent us out to the shed and told us to count wood. Every one of us was gullible enough to fall for it every time.”
You know, if I weren’t sitting around this candle, and if I hadn’t heard it myself, I never would have believed that Moms would be so sneaky.
Maybe during the next year in the attic I will be able to hear some good stories on Moms if she will pack me in the same box with that shelf elf.
