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It's Christmas Day, and I am up way too early, because I am, apparently, Old School. Of course these days way too early means seven, not five, but everyone else in the house is still asleep and happy that way, so it's all the same.

The agenda for today is as follows: shower, dress; at ten or so Morgan and Erik are coming by and they're fixing frittata for brunch; we'll probably open stockings and then eat, and then open presents; Erik will leave for dinner at his Dad's, and Blake and I will cook dinner, and then we will eat; Morgan will go home, and Blake and I will watch The Two Towers Extendamix, eat chocolate, and then go to bed.

I can't help but be reminded of childhood Christmases. Although we moved around a lot, so the venue was always different, my parents managed to make Christmas the same wherever we were.

First I would wake up way too early; if it was before five I would force myself to go back to sleep, but I always considered five a legitimate time to get up, so if it was after five I would get up.

I could make out a lumpy, bulging misshapen thing hanging on my doorknob; my Christmas stocking. We used these stockings my mother must have custom-knit -- they were stripy and long and too big to be an actual sock. When full, they became a deliciously bulgy promise of chocolates and toys and magazines. We'd hang them, empty, on our doorknobs on Christmas eve, and when we woke they would magically be full.

I would retrieve my stocking and climb back into bed, switch on my bedside lamp and empty the stocking, item by item, opening and savouring and studying each thing before moving onto the next. There was always a Toblerone bar, toys, keyrings, at least one magazine and at least one puzzle book. When I got older there were soaps, deodorants, a toothbrush. At the bottom of the stocking was always an orange, a red Delicious apple and a handful of nuts.

When I got to the bottom I would repack the entire stocking, setting aside the magazines and puzzles and chocolates to keep me busy until my parents woke up. Then I'd go into their room and painstakingly unpack the stocking again, showing them what Santa brought me. (This part of the tradition continued long after I knew about Santa.)

Then we all got up and had breakfast; I don't remember anything special for breakfast, I think we all just had the usual cereal.

We had to wait until breakfast was cleared away and my parents had their cup of coffee before we could open presents; that was agonizing. Opening presents was always a studied ritual; me or my brother would be the designated present retriever, and we would distribute the gifts in waves, so each person would receive a gift, open it, admire it, display it to everyone else, and then the next wave of gifts would come. Open, admire, display, open, admire, display. I always ended up with more presents than anyone, presumably because I have always been more promiscuous in my desire for material goods.

After the tree was plundered we'd have dinner; my mother hates to cook so we always had Christmas Dinner on Christmas Eve so she wouldn't have to cook Christmas Day. Dinner on Christmas Day was leftovers from the previous day's big meal.

And that was pretty much it; our Christmas traditions peter out around noon. The afternoon and evening was spent reading our new books and eating our new chocolates. I always found it rather anti-climactic.

Now that I'm the grown-up and Christmas is at my house, I get to decide what to keep and what to toss from the old traditions. (Even better, since Blake is nominally Jewish he doesn't have any traditions of his own to muddy up my Christmas.)

I'm keeping the stocking, definitely. Not only is it a great way to spend those interminable hours after waking up, but it is immense fun. (Of course, I mean for Delphine and her little baby whatever.) I'd like to do something fancier than cereal for breakfast; bagels and lox? French toast? I'll keep the presents, but not for grown-ups, only for kids. If the kids want to buy us presents they can, but no more than one per parent per child.

We'll make dinner on Christmas Day, because Blake and I both like to cook. And if there's time I'd like to do some kind of physical activity; tobogganing or skating or just going out for a walk. Christmas is too stuffy if you stay in all day, plus you need some afternoon activity instead of spending the whole day after dinner sitting around chomping on chocolates.

And now it's almost eight. I might take a shower, or make some coffee, and find a book to read until Blake and Delphine wake up. I hope everyone who is reading this has or had a lovely Christmas, unless you're Jewish in which case I hope you had a nice day sitting around, wishing the stores were open.