When I was little, the anticipation for Christmas morning was overwhelming.  My sister, brother and I would lay in wait the eve before – not much sleep between us.

That morning we’d be up early; though not earlier than our parents.  I imagine now that it was less likely an early morning for them than it was a really long night.

I remember distinctly one year, standing at the top of the stairs; three pajama clad bed heads calling down, “Can we get up?”  The reply, “Not till I finish my coffee.”