Christmas memories... wrapping presents

My dad was a master of secrecy where gifts were concerned. We were always told which closets were off limits for the duration—between purchase and wrapping, which could be the entire month!
Dad loved to wrap gifts, and he was a perfectionist. Raw edges were folded before taped, corners were square, every crease was pressed down to lay flat (I learned this from him, something my husband complains about to this day. He overtightens every single screw and bolt he handles, and I over-crease paper. Both faults to forgive, but that's another blog).

Best of all, though, were the bows. His were made by hand, none of those stick-on bows for this man. He bought cloth ribbon especially made for gift wrapping, gathered wraps of ribbon in his hand, snipped the centers, tied them with narrow ribbon, then pulled the loops out, one at a time, toward the middle, with a twist to keep them in place. He taught me this skill, too… came in handy for all those Girl Scout holiday fundraisers.

My dad was a bit of a tease, too. Every day after school, we'd run home and check under the tree. Sometimes there was a package from an aunt or uncle, and we'd get to open the box together and lay out the brightly wrapped packages under the tree. Sometimes there were new packages from Mom & Dad. But often (way too often for us), the packages would be completely anonymous.

One memorable year, every single present under the tree was without a tag. Mom and Dad must have gotten a good laugh out of the sight of their three girls, lying down under the tree, inspecting the packages and trying to figure out who they were intended for. I remember that we tried all sorts of schemes to try and figure it out. Finally we sorted things into piles by package size, and if there were three, we were pretty sure one was for each of us.

Sorting presents was another favorite pastime for us. The packages were as carefully arranged under the tree, as the ornaments were arranged from the branches. We'd sort them by color.. red and green and white and silver, each in their own carefully arranged pile. We sort them by the name on the tag… one pile of presents for Kathie, one for Laurie, one for me. Then we'd mix them all up and start over.

One year, a few days before Christmas, I snuck out to the living room in the dead of night and opened up every single one of my presents. I did, I really did. I was consumed with the need to know, but to this day I wish I hadn't done it, because it spoiled the magic of opening gifts on Christmas morning.