The holiday perspective: a festive short story

I remember always loving the holidays in both my homes, and let me tell you, they could not have been more night and day. It was always kind of a special time for me, and I felt like the protagonist for a little bit. Mom would call the children and everyone in the house to come to the living room to help dress me up. After much shouting and bickering, someone would come to lend a hand. Usually Milly; Milly was the youngest of the two children. I can't remember much of how she was as a child, but I do know she loves the colour red. She would wear her little red plaid and her bow pigtails in winter, and lots of flora red in warmer weather. Of course, I was not usually around during the warmer weather, but I recall seeing the parents and the children get up to the attic to fetch the clothes, usually by the time the air felt warmer, and the sun shined for longer by the windows.
As I was saying before, Milly liked the winter festivities more than the rest of the family, at least when she was younger.

- I swear we wouldn't do these things if it weren't for the children...

By "these thighs" she meant arranging all the decorations and setting up the table with big, great steamy meals. I don't ever eat with them, but I remember the smells that came from the kitchen on Christmas Eve. Mum would spend all evening cooking, or so I preside because I would never see her by the living room while dad and the laid around, the kids usually playing some board game and dad on his phone or watching telly. By supper time, mum would come by and yell at them because she spent hours in the kitchen breaking her back, and it occurred to no one to go help out. Then dad would reply he had been working all day too and deserved to rest at least that night, and turn the TV louder, so the children would turn the TV volume up, so mum and dad would scream even louder and everyone would miss the bell that rang in the kitchen indicating whatever was in the oven was ready. More than once and twice whatever was in the oven got to the table black as coal, and so the yelling and bickering would continue during dinner time.

Let me keep introducing you to the family: you already know mum, dad and Milly, you should get to know young Mattie too. Matt was a few years older than Milly, not many because I remember seeing him very young with her baby sister in his small arms by the fireplace one of the first Christmas. He was rambunctious as a young puppy and ran more than he walked. That didn't go very well at times when he was young and starting to learn the strength of his little legs and the reach of his short arms. He was very little still when he would run around the living room while mum was decorating and knock some little delicate ornament to the floor and break it. That was okay, we got many, I always got more than I could really keep, I wish I could have tod him that it was alright, and it was not a big deal, but mum would grab him by his ear and pull. It looked like it hurt so much, judging by Mattie's cries and sobs. 

-What is wrong with you, WHAT ID WRONG WITH YOU?

I never understood, and neither did matt, what did she mean by what was wrong with him? Didn't all kids made little messes like that? I wish I could have comforted him when he sobbed afterwards, but my branches were too short, and he would quickly run to hide in his room. He grew more silent as he got older, and a bunch of years after those first Christmases, he would barely talk any more to his parents and sister during Christmas Eve dinner. He traded his fluffy sweaters and little bow-tie for T-shirts with striking colours and jeans that must have been very old, as they were all ripped off.

Mum and dad also changed a lot during the time I stayed with them. When I first arrived and was set in the living room, mum had a head full of bright brown hair and would always sing her way while she set me out. Dad was much younger too and would not stop hugging her bride, so much so that they would forget ornaments all around the room because they took so many breaks to hug and kiss each other. I remember I did t have that many ornaments by then, a few wooden ones and just two or three made of tin. My best fried was a small angel made of chalk, white as snow. He would sit on top of my head and whisper to me the thing I couldn't hear around the room. That's how I knew all the secret Santa presents before they were opened, I knew if Mildly was going to get the Mermaid Barbie or the Ninja Turtle Deluxe set, I knew if dad had slipped a few extra chocolates in Mattie's stocking because of his good grades at school, and I was a confident for the pair of bright diamond earrings dad bought mum that year.