Dad stands up at the head of the table and we all give him our full attention. When Dad stands up during a family meeting, it means business. He clears his throat loudly and gets ready to begin his speech, because there’s always a speech.
“Alright, first off thank you all for being here. I know it’s not easy to travel so far for the holidays.” He winks at both Piper and I and gets a laugh out of most of the table. “I can’t remember the last time both of our families were able to sit down at this table and not have an empty chair. Mary, John, thank you for making time to get yourselves and your rowdy boys here tonight.” He tips his head at Spencer and Austin and then reaches down to pick up something at his feet.
When he comes up, I see that he has the cat in his arms and I have to fight my eyeballs from trying to roll into the back of my skull when I notice that Dad and Little E have matching red sweaters on. He lifts the cat into a position that looks oddly like he’s trying to rock a baby to sleep and then literally starts baby-talking to this cat as he pets his fuzzy little head repeatedly.
“Everyone say hi to Little E.”
If there were crickets in the room they’d be chirping amidst the awkward silence that follows that request.
“Baby, why don’t you continue? It’s getting late and I’m sure the girls are tired from traveling,” Mom suggests.
“No, not until everyone says hi to Little E,” he presses.
Piper and I make eye contact and she rolls her eyes and sighs loudly. We both tell Little E hi, which earns us both a smile from my dad. I can’t believe I leave for a few years and I come back to Mr. Cat Dad. We weren’t allowed to have any pets growing up except for fish, which kept going belly up on us.
The rest of the table gives Little E a very unenthusiastic hello, and as soon as they do he scampers out of dads arms and goes running up the stairs like the little demon child he is.
Dad claps his hands together loudly and finally takes a seat again.
“Okay, so. Us oldies thought since it’s the first Christmas that you’ve all been home together in years, that we should make it an extra fun one. Mary, can you grab the box?”
Mary, stands up quickly and claps her hands in a giddy sort of way and grabs a small box from the mantle and hands it to Dad. She ruffles both Austin’s and Phil's hair, which earns her shouts of protest from both of them, before taking her seat again.
“In this box, there are five tasks,” Dad explains, and I think we all know exactly what’s going on now. Piper starts jumping up and down in her seat like an excited child, while Austin and Phillip are high fiving each other with wicked smiles on their faces. I look across the table and my eyes meet Spencer’s. He has an amused expression tugging on the corner of his lips and I feel my own trying to fight its way out.
John and Mom are both smiling widely now and Mary is downright ecstatic as Dad starts to explain the rules of the game.
The same game we played for many years as children.
The Mistletoe Feud.
I feel myself start to get antsy. I haveneverwon The Mistletoe Feud before, but that changes this year. I’m older, wiser, and ready to pull out all the stops to win.
That crown will be mine this time.
“Ahh, hell with it,” Dad throws his hands up in defeat and pushes the box towards Piper. “Linda printed the rules out this year, you can read them yourselves. My old man eyes just don’t work the way they used to.”
“Dad, you’re not even sixty yet.” Phillip gripes as Piper stands up to pass around the small squares of paper to all of us ‘children’.
“When you get to be my age–”
“Oh my gosh, please don’t turn this into one of those ‘back in my day I had to hike through the snow for five miles to and from school’ talks,” Piper hassles him, earning a gruff, but amused laugh from Dad. She hands me my rule sheet last and I gaze down at it, knowing exactly what it’s going to say, but enjoying the familiarity of it. It’s actually quite comforting knowing that some things won’t ever change, even if I never expected to play this silly game again.
Okay, so maybe these rules aren’t exactly the same as they were when we were younger, but that just makes me feel even more competitive and ready to win this damn thing. I know I sound like a petulant child, but Pipes has never let me forget how many times she’s won over the years.
Spoiler alert, she’s won more times than any of us have.
Though now, I feel like I have a really good shot at winning, because back then we weren’t allowed to leave the house to complete our challenges. Do you know how difficult it is for five of us to try to bake cookies using one oven? It was impossible. By the time I finally got to use the oven, I didn’t have enough time to cool my cookies. Nothing screams ‘winner’ like the tragic melted faces of my gingerbread men cookies.
The room is quiet except for the crackle of the log burning in the fireplace as we all read the newly amended rule sheet. I mentally start thinking of what tasks our parents must have for us. Every year they had different tasks, but they were all holiday themed, and they obviously had to be kid-friendly back then. Let’s see, there was the cookie decorating contest, the ugly sweaters, the snow man, gift wrapping, the gingerbread houses. What else?
“Are you trying to remember what tasks they gave us?” I let out a shrill yelp and nearly jump out of my skin when I realize that Phillip is sitting next to me. My eyes are wide as I scan the room and notice that the entire table is empty except for him and Spencer. I must have really been spacing out this time because I don’t remember seeing anyone stand up and leave. I was too focused on plotting.
“Yeah, I am. Want to help?” I smile at my brother fondly. He’s grown up so much since I saw him in New York last Christmas. I keep having to remind myself that my baby brother is a full fledged adult now. Whatever that means forhim.
“What, no! I can’t help you win!”
“Actually, you owe me for that Taylor Swift video you snuck of me last Christmas.” My fond smile quickly turns into a cocky one as I narrow my eyes at him. I know he’ll help now that I’ve called him out on his shit.
