Come ON Guys!
Over the winter break, we went to admire the holiday lights.
Since it was dreadfully cold, we decided to do the drive-through lights, rather than walking. So we took the dog and piled into the car.
Of course, the entire world had that same idea at exactly the same time. When we got near the entrance, we saw that the line to get into the park was at least a mile long.
“Should I try to go around it?” Bill asked. Bill has a knack for finding his way and, even if he gets lost, finding the best way.
“Sure,” I said – and he did. And we got around at least an hour’s worth of traffic, and joined the line just inside the park entrance.
I remember when driving through Christmas lights was an idyllic experience. We’ve driven through the holiday lights at least ten times, and I remember it fondly – the kids standing with their heads sticking out of the sun roof, funny light-up animals jumping over our car, Bill and I glancing at each other with laughing eyes, relishing every moment.
But this year, it was different. We turned on the Christmas music and drove peacefully through, but this is what I heard from the backseat:
Listening to Christmas music reminds me of death and murder.
Yeah, I’ve seen too many horror movies.
They should put all the lights together in one place so we wouldn’t have to drive for so long to see them all.
That teddy bear is never going to be able to put the star on the tree. He’s been there for 18 years and he just can’t do it! He’ll never do it!
Oh my God, I hate this song.
Meanwhile, as my teenage boys groaned in the backseat, minivans passed us with nine-year-olds sticking their heads out of the sunroofs – kids who were smiling and waving and eyeing the lights with sheer joy.
“Merry Christmas!” the little kids squealed with delight as we passed.
This sparked a new wave of upset from the teens.
I hate when people say Merry Christmas and it’s not even Christmas day.
Everybody’s just saying ‘Merry Christmas’ and it sounds so fake!
The magic of the season was lost on my teenagers. The joy, the fun, the delight was completely void.
But my least favorite quote of the evening came from the front seat, from my own husband, who was driving the car through all of the sparkling wonder as the kids grumbled and grunted and laughed heartily at themselves.
As I tried to ignore the complaints and enjoy the sparkles, Bill whacked his hand on the steering wheel with a semblance of anger.
Come ON guys! God damn!
Bill not only spoke the loudest and only swear word of the night, but he took the Lord’s name in vain right in the heart of the most joyous Christian holiday of the year.
And it made absolutely no difference to the boys, who may not even have heard him.
I am not sure we will drive through the lights next year.
But I bet, someday, my boys will delight in taking their own kids through those same lights. I envision my boys as adults, waving my grandchildren’s arms high above their heads, singing Merry Christmas! at all the passing vehicles and smiling broadly, with all the sincerity of the Pope himself.
And the little ones will squeal and laugh as the teddy bear tilts and bobs, never quite reaching with the star to the top of that lit-up Christmas tree.