As an author and an avid, under-the-covers-with-a-flashlight reader, I feel like I should say "favorite gift? Books, books, books!" And while I have certainly received my fair share of amazing bookish presents, it's really nothing compared to the best Christmas ever. I was eight, I think, and a full-blown, shakes in withdrawal, Strawberry Shortcake junkie. There was no shame in my habit. I went nowhere without a little stash -- a lemony-scented miniature of Lemon Meringue Pie in my pocket at church, a couple of big-headed dollies stashed in my "purse" at family dinners.
I'm also the youngest kid on both sides of my extended (extremely extended -- Italian on one side, Hungarian on the other) family, which meant that at that time, all my cousins were either in the brooding, high school, give me money or give me death stage or the fresh into college, bro can you spare a microwave? stage. Meaning, no one knew what to get the sole kid in the family.
So Christmas Eve comes along and in our family that is the coup de gras, the pinnacle of all nights, because that is the night Santa doesn't just slip through the chimney in the dark of night -- he actually stops in to say hi. See, my family has connections. Everywhere. Our reach goes all the way to the North Pole so for as long as my little eight (and now 30-somethin') brain can remember, Santa was a pop-in-for-a-few mainstay at Christmas Eve. And he always brought a little something to lighten his load for the work to come. And that year, the little something that he handed to me smelled like strawberries.
I tore it open with hopped-up-on-candy cane glee. And there she was: the newest, smelliest Strawberry Shortcake on the market. I was ecstatic. Life couldn't get better. And then Santa called my name again. Me, Santa? I asked, wide-eyed. My whole family grinned and ushered me forward and Santa handed me another box. And then another. And then another. All shaped the same. All vaguely scented.
My heart beat. Adrenaline raced through my body, right to my fat little fingers as I tore smiling Santa paper off package after package - until there they were, lined up under the tree: the entire Strawberry Shortcake line up, from Blueberry Muffin to the ethically ambiguous Cafe Au Lait. Even - EVEN - the Purple Pie Man.
I've had wonderful Christmases every year since then, but nothing compared to that night, the magical smell of Strawberry -- and with just the slightest twinge of Douglas Fir. Best. Christmas. Ever.
Great post, Hannah. My parents promoted the Santa idea by saying he would continue leaving presents until I no longer believed in him. That was an unkind thing. Here I was telling tales well into my 10th or 11th birthday (some would say I've been telling white lies ever since).
Posted by: Sharon Hamilton | December 20, 2012 at 09:29 AM
I LOVED Strawberry Shortcake dolls. I would take them to bed, lay them out on my pillow and snuggle. It was like sleeping in the middle a pie!
Great post!
Posted by: Marina Adair | December 20, 2012 at 09:46 AM
I'm smiling thinking of the extraordinary, confounded joy that 8-year old must have felt. All dreams coming true at once! Good story.
Posted by: Susan Shea | December 20, 2012 at 10:09 AM
Ah, the magic of childhood Christmas gifts! :-) Brings back memories of when I was young (mumblety)decades ago. ONe of my favorite kid presents EVER was a kid-sized cardboard grocery store, complete with cardboard cans and boxes of "groceries," a little cardboard cash-register, and cardboard coins. Poor old Santa must've had a fit putting that together, but I was in heaven when I woke up and raced to the Christmas tree that morning...
Posted by: Ann | December 20, 2012 at 11:29 AM
You described this scene so well I can almost smell these fruity scents. LOL.
Posted by: Marlene Relja | December 20, 2012 at 11:06 PM
Thanks for reminding me of my *own* favorite Christmases! I, too, am the youngest child in my family, and I remember my own joy when I received a "Hi Heidi!" doll whose hand shot up in a wave (or was it a Nazi salute??? Scary thought, but no ...) when you pressed her belly button. And best of all, she came in her own red plastic pocket book. Right on up there with your Strawberry Shortcake experience!
Posted by: HD Silversmith | December 21, 2012 at 07:43 AM
Never had Strawberry Shortcake growing up, but as an adult, a friend gave one to me. I LOVE her! Why had I been so deprived as a kid? I'm going to give her to my own little nugget so she will know the joys of strawberry-smelling dollies!
Posted by: Elisabeth Barrett | December 21, 2012 at 10:12 AM