What’s in the Bag? A New Christmas Tradition

On my mom’s side of the family you stop getting actual gifts from relatives when you turn 18. My opinion was not asked, because I obviously would’ve voiced concerns such as still wanting to open presents; probably would’ve done nothing. So over the years we’ve tried a few different things such as getting a bag full of assorted goodies picked out especially for one person. I think that lasted a year or two.

Then there was a the Dice Game which is also the perfect gateway into a gambling addiction. Or, you can make some of the gifts lottery tickets, and expect a potential WW3; there will be casualties. The game was ended a few years ago.

But it was time to think of a new tradition, because there were those who didn’t just want eat and then watch the little ones open presents. When I say time to think of a new tradition I really mean that I found out about this the night before we were supposed to up north, and my mom did most of the work; some things are just not my area of expertise on that short of notice….or ever.

So it comes time to hand out the bags, and finally find out how it works: each bag has a number, and you pick the number out of a bowl. So it was all fine, until my younger cousin insisted I take the one she made for me; we were not told who to make it for, so I was nervous.

I had number seven, which was the last one so I was getting nervous as they went through the bags, and the only clue my uncle gave me was that whatever was in my bag would keep me busy on the ride home. This scared me, because my uncle likes to joke around.

Then my older cousin and her family had to leave early so we bumped mine to the next one. Yay, me.

I picked up the bag, or in my case a box. I looked inside and first thing I saw pulled out was a toilet seat; I everyone laughed and so did I. Next was air freshener, a full roll of toilet paper, and a chocolate laxative (yes, you read that right).

As everyone was laughing I looked down in the box for the last item, and did not want to pull it out. This is the item that told why my uncle told me I would be busy on the ride home, and I did not want to take this out in front of my parents. Before I pulled it out I yelled to my uncle, “Jay!! My mom is here!!”

They laughed even more.

Finally I smiled (while I cried a little inside) and slowly lifted the item from the box: A Playboy magazine from 1979. I’m pretty sure it got one of the biggest laughs of the day. And of course my uncles had to inspect it.

Everyone had so much fun that they decided to do it again next year. Hopefully I get a different bag.



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