Hi, it's Christmas, here's Krampus! The Longest Day....

I'm certainly not the first to mention this; I, myself heard of it on the Mike O'Meara podcast. In Austria, there's a Christmas tradition that St. Nicholas (not a Coca Cola red Santy Claws) has a demonic sidekick known as Krampus. Krampus looks like your garden-variety devil, goat hooves lots of hair and horns. The basic premise is, if you're a naughty child, Krampus will deliver switches and spank you with them. Or worse. You can wikipedia Krampus for the history, or google him for some photographic evidence. The most amusing portion of the story, for me, was the idea that every December 5th is "Krampusnacht", wherein young men (I guess, around 18 years or so) dress up as Krampus and chase young girls around, spanking them when they catch them.

What a great idea! Who wants her ass smacked?

So I tell my 8 year old son this story. And his eyes grow to about the size of your average dinner plate. Is this guilt on his part? He woke up the next two nights banging on my door crying about how he was scared that Krampus was real. Dammit. Joke's on....who?

As I get older, Christmas gets a little less fun in some ways. It's great - I enjoy my kids getting excited for the Big Day - but I spend time remembering who's not here anymore. I was the apple of both of my grandmothers' eyes. They are long passed, but I remember them well. My father's mom was from Italy, and did indeed tell a Christmas tale about Santa having a henchman who would take gifts away from naughty children. I don't recall what name she had for it (I understand there are several iterations of this concept), and my memory of this is very vague. But I think it was there. Like anyone, I've lost relatives who I miss very much and lost touch with friends who will probably never return. Life is like that. Time moves and you must move with it, the kids need diapers and milk and blah blah blah. Sometimes I remember to regret. Then it's back to movin' right along.

Today is Christmas Eve. The Longest Day of the Year. My four children will probably be wound up from the moment they wake until - oh - midnight tomorrow. Somehow, gifts will get wrapped amidst the chaos. Hell, we might bake a thing or two. By day's end - or early Christmas morning - my head will hit the pillow, exhausted. Perhaps someday all six of us living under our little roof will miss this amazingly crazy day. As I write this, it's hard to imagine how.

And- if they're bad - I'm making a deal with St. Nick to borrow Krampus.

Cheers!