The Society for Children Against the Customs and Traditions Ordinated by Parents, for Parents, on Christmas Day

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

I hope this season finds you and your loved ones well! As a means of spreading holiday cheer, I wanted to share an excerpt from Chapter 12 of Phoebe James, titled, “The Society for Children Against the Customs and Traditions Ordinated by Parents, for Parents, on Christmas Day,” or “The Christmas Chapter,” as I more conveniently call it. This was one of my favorite chapters to write, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

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December welcomed more snow, the days passed quickly towards Christmas, and a wing of the old house was opened and aired out just for the occasion. This wing consisted of a drawing room that once complimented the dining room, and two adjacent bedrooms that the O’Malleys used as guest rooms.

The drawing room was decorated two weeks in advance for the children’s eager excitement, which could not be dampened by any means except giving them their way. Therefore, the whole family, well bundled from the cold, set out to select the perfect tree.

This undertaking was the work of some thirty to forty minutes, for the family had trouble deciding on the same one. Once chosen, Thomas and his father cut it down as the twins watched excitedly. Bob had the important task of dragging the tree home, and the twins had the important task of adding to the tree’s mass and weight.

Fiona was, perhaps, the most eager of all the children to decor-ate the drawing room before Christmas Eve, and she did so with extraordinary vigor. Phoebe was her faithful assistant and smilingly watched her work. Ribbons, tinsel, greenery, ornaments, candles, and stringed popcorn adorned the tree alone. Everywhere else, there was an overflow of such decorations. Above the mantlepiece, there was a garland of greenery that Fiona had gathered from a holly tree; stuck to the corners of the ceiling and above the windows was more greenery adorned with red ribbons tied in bows; and in every place that seemed appropriate, there was a sprinkling of tinsel or an ornament, and sometimes both.

“I think Christmas is my favorite holiday of all,” said Fiona, twirling barefoot on the rug in the drawing room, surveying her work with satisfaction.

“My birthday is my favorite holiday,” said Jimmy.

“Mine too!” said Georgie.

“You both have the same birthday, and besides, a birthday isn’t a holiday, or else everyone in the country would celebrate it.”

“Don’t they?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s right, George,” interceded Thomas. “Everyone in the country may celebrate my birthday, but they don’t celebrate yours.”

“Why not?”

“Because you wear your trousers inside out.”

“I do not!”

“Look at the seams.”

Disillusioned, George looked down and pulled out the side of his pants to see that the seams were indeed on the wrong side of the cloth.

“They’re supposed to be that way.”

“Are not,” said Thomas smugly.

“Now don’t you start with him,” said Phoebe. “He dressed himself this morning. Didn’t you, Georgie?”

“Yes, I did!” he said proudly.

“And I think he looks very handsome, and so does Jimmy.”

They beamed with pride.

“What about me?” asked Thomas with a big smile.

Phoebe kept a straight face and said, “I would have thought Mam told you that when she got your clothes this morning.”

The younger children laughed, and Thomas tossed a handful of popcorn at Phoebe. She retaliated with a pillow, which he threw back with equal force. Fiona, Georgie, and Jimmy all took Phoebe’s side, Jack watched in high diversion, and Mrs. O’Malley, happening to pass through to the extra bedrooms with a stack of sheets, looked at her children to see a pillow fight in full bloom.

“Children?” she said calmly.

They froze when they saw her.

“He started it,” said Fiona, George, and Jimmy, all pointing to the culprit.

“What!” said Thomas innocently.

Jack cooed in agreement.

“Phoebe?” asked Mrs. O’Malley.

Phoebe nodded mischievously.

Thomas looked at her in surprised horror.

“Never mind, children,” said Mrs. O’Malley, taking her youngest in her free arm. “I’m going to need all of you to help me make the beds. It won’t get done by itself.”

She was off, with the rest of her children following behind like ducklings, muttering to herself about how the Christmas season “does something to children.”

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Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley allowed Thomas to invite a friend or two from college to spend Christmas with them, and they arrived as expected.

Sam Walter, a youth of sixteen, was a mathematical prodigy and had been enrolled in college with a full scholarship at the age of twelve. He was awkward socially but was soon relieved to see that, though friendly, the O’Malley family did not expect fashionable small talk from their visitors, and if a subject came up that he was well-read upon, he could discuss it with enthusiasm.

Charley Thorne, Thomas’s other friend, was a more typical age for attending college, though perhaps not of the typical character. He had a bright, smiling countenance, and a tall, athletic build that made one feel sorry for him due to such awkwardness as inevitably follows in the manners of such a youth.

Sam and Charley were welcome guests in the O’Malley household and felt this as soon as they tramped in from the snow. The family took great interest in them, for they received few visitors in the course of a year. Thomas showed them to their rooms, and the boys prepared to spend a pleasant week at their friend’s queer but happy home.

The younger children were happy that Thomas now had other means of enjoyment than making fun of them. In fact, they seldom saw Thomas and his friends, unless they wanted to, for they knew they could always be found outside in the snow, eating at the big table in the kitchen, or romping with Nicodemus in the drawing room.

Christmas Eve was spent in high anticipation of the coming day. Presents were deposited under the tree, carols were sung, and Mr. O’Malley told a story to keep the twins from tampering with their gifts so they might open “by accident.” The story served well enough for a temporary distraction, but its effects would not last the night.

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Phoebe woke in the dim blue light of pre-dawn glinting off the snow outside. She had been dreaming about her parents again and was tossing and turning, about to go back to sleep when she heard voices.

They were hushed and sounded a lot like the twins’ voices. A stifled laugh broke out to confirm her theory. She then sighed, rolled out of bed, donned her robe, and sleepwalked downstairs to see what the matter was. But it didn’t take much guessing on her part. She used an alternate stairway that led more quickly to the drawing room, where, she suspected, the twins were opening their Christmas presents early. She was half humored at the idea but didn’t think Mrs. O’Malley would approve, so she made her way downstairs before they could do much harm.

But before she reached the bottom of the stairs, something met her eyes that she did not expect.

The twins were in the drawing room, but they were not alone. Thomas and his friends were with them, but the three of them did not appear any older than Georgie and Jimmy in their behavior.

They were eating candy and apples from the stockings that hung over the fireplace, unwrapping their gifts in the process, and tossing bows and ribbons upon each other’s heads. Thomas had already unwrapped a sled that his father had made for him and sat on it, eating an apple. Sam was in the process of devouring a book that Thomas had gifted him, and Charley, who to Thomas’s latest knowledge had taken an interest in pugilistics, was trying on a new pair of gloves. Jimmy and George stood nearby, enjoying candy canes and wearing new coats that their mother had made for them over their nightshirts.

Phoebe was one of those unfortunate people who do not possess the power of speech upon waking up, and if she had, the goings-on in the drawing room would have rendered her speech-less. She stood blinking in the light of the fireplace, and Thomas spotted her after his friend Charley stumbled over himself, and he ran to make her join them before she had the presence of mind to pretend she had seen nothing and go back to bed.

She was not up to reprimanding anyone and was on the point of returning upstairs when he led her ceremoniously into the drawing room.

“Welcome, fair lady!” he said, “to the Society for Children Against the Customs and Traditions Ordinated by Parents, for Parents, on Christmas Day. Help yourself to a present. Would you like a cinnamon stick?”

It was all Phoebe could do to glare at Thomas reprovingly as he seated her on a cushion from the couch on his sled. He placed a large square box wrapped in brightly colored paper on her lap, and she laid her head upon the bow.

“Ah, come on, wake up, Phoeb!” he said, rocking her shoulder. “We need to open all of our presents before Mam and Da find out, it’s part of the fun. Is Effie awake yet?”

“Right here,” came a voice from behind the tree.

Fiona had seen Phoebe leave their room and followed to see what was going on for herself.

She was already unwrapping a present, tossing shreds of paper over her shoulder.

Jimmy walked up to Phoebe, and placing a bow on her head, he kissed her cheek and said, “Mewwy Chwisthmas!”

All Phoebe’s sternness melted away, and she kissed him back and said, “Merry Christmas, Jimmy.”

He ran off to bashfully wipe his cheek, and Phoebe began to open her present.

“There you go, Phoeb!” said Thomas, happily resuming his apple.

But she was interrupted by the voice of Mr. O’Malley coming from the foot of the stairs.

“Looks like we were mistaken, Mother,” he said to his wife. “I knew we should have put coal in their stockings.”

Mrs. O’Malley laughed and set down her youngest. He ran on his wobbly legs to the others and fell into a pile of paper with a squeal.

Thomas rescued him as Mrs. O’Malley observed Phoebe sitting with a half-opened present in her lap.

“Really, Phoebe,” she said in mock severity, “I would have thought at least you would have more sense than this.”

“Don’t worry, Mam,” said Thomas, laughing. “She tried to stop us, but I made her sit down and stuck a gift in her lap and a candy cane in her mouth. She succumbed heroically.”

“Well, I guess it’s all right then,” said Mrs. O’Malley, smiling, but she still held to her conviction that Christmas does something to children.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley then joined their children in the process of opening gifts, and the noise soon woke Betsy. They received her with a great welcome, and she quickly began opening her own presents.

By the time everyone had finished, the sun was well up, and the little ones had fallen asleep. They were carried off to bed, and Mrs. O’Malley and Betsy prepared breakfast.

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Christmas dinner proved even more festive than Thanksgiving and consisted of ham, roasted potatoes with butter, sourdough bread, sweet peas, Christmas pudding, and plum cake. After dinner, the children ran outside to play with Thomas’s new sled, and for supper, they ate roasted chestnuts and baked apples as they sat around the fire in the drawing room. Mr. O’Malley opened his Bible to read the Christmas story, Mrs. O’Malley played the piano, which had been brought into the drawing room for the occasion, and they sang carols before going to bed.

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