I LOVE Christmas. I love crowded malls and ugly sweaters and obnoxious bells on everything that make the world sound like someone just opened the door to my dentist's office. I love laughing at idiots on the news bitching about how having to acknowledge any other holiday's existence is an affront to their Christian sensibilities, and I enjoy stop-motion animation explaining to me that Santa was a redhead and nobody would ever want a toy called a Charlie in the box. I like watching the Peanuts characters dance in oddly disturbing ways, and the acceptance they all get from their friends despite having freakishly thin hair, a blanket-carrying habit, and a refusal to bathe. I like snow, long underwear, and sleeping in socks. I like Christmas stockings, candy canes, and trying endlessly to fluff my Christmas tree to hide the gaps between the sections (I can never quite get it). I love hot cider and sugar cookies and the ubiquitous demands that we not forget Jesus. When I was a kid I used to wish Christmas would hurry up and get here but now I love the anticipation. Christmas is, for me, one night and then one day. The joy is in the Christmas season, not just the holiday itself. I wouldn't ever want to skip the bulk of it.