Christmas is different as a parent. Especially when your kid is old enough to appreciate presents. The excitement of it all is now so externalized: I'm so looking forward to sharing his Christmas morning with him that I've become almost disinterested in (or at least not actively thinking about) what the day portends for me. It pales to insignificance.
I guess if your heart is going to walk around outside your body, you might as well live vicariously through it, eh?
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