A Real Old Time Christmas

By Paul Andrews

"Not Fair!" Tyler shouted. "Why can't I get a PlayStation for Christmas?"

Mother sighed as she prepared their Christmas Eve dinner. "Because it's too expensive. We have more important things to spend our money on than a video game right now."

"It's not a video game, it's a gaming system."

"Whatever, we can't afford it right now."

"But all my friends got one last year and they're getting newer ones this Christmas."

His mother was cutting up thick carrots with loud, heavy chops. A pot of pealed potatoes boiled away on the stove top and the savory smell of pot roast drifted out of the oven. She had just told him he was not getting a PlayStation in order to break the news to him now, rather than be disappointed on Christmas morning. "I don't care what the other kids have. You already spend too much time on your phone. We won't have you spending mindless hours playing games instead of doing your homework or playing outside in the fresh air."

"But its freezing outside."

His mother pushed a strand of hair from her face with the back of her hand. "You know what I mean."

"But Ashley's getting all the clothes she wants for her stupid Barbie dolls."

"Not so loud," his mother said sternly, glancing past the kitchen door. "Your sister still believes in Santa. Besides, your video game costs a whole lot more than all her doll clothes combined. Money's tight right now with the factory shut down and your Dad having to work two jobs."

"What if I used the money Gramps gave me to . . . "

"No," she cut him off, "absolutely not. Your Gramps gave you that money to put away for college. You're not going to spend it on a useless video game."

"Gaming system. And it's not useless. It teaches me strategy and ... and eye hand coordination."

His mother rolled her eyes. "End of discussion, Tyler. You'll get plenty of other things tomorrow, I promise. Now leave your phone here and go outside for a while. Why don't you go sledding or build a snowman?" She handed him an unpeeled carrot. "Here, take this for the nose. We'll eat as soon as your father gets home from work. He'll likely be late cause of the snow. I'll call you in when everything is ready."

Tyler ignored the carrot, grabbed his winter coat, and headed for the back door. "No one cares about what I want. Everyone else gets all they ask for. I might as well not even be here."

His mother sighed again. "That's not true honey, you know we love you. You're old enough to understand that we don't have a lot of money to spend this year. That's why I told you tonight. You just have to trust us to know what's best."

Tyler ignored the platitudes and reached for the doorknob.

"And your phone, leave it here, in the house for a change. Otherwise, you'll just sit out there texting your friends."

This time he rolled his eyes, reached into his pocket, and slapped his phone on the kitchen counter. Then he stepped out into the cold and purposely slammed the door shut behind him. He took two steps and ran into his great-grandfather, just coming in from the garage.

His weathered face was pale from the cold and clouds of mist puffed from his whiskered face. He wore an old fashioned, red flannel coat and one of those corny leather hats with the fur lined sides that folded down over your ears and snapped under your chin. His boots were old fashioned too, the rubber kind with buckles that snapped across your ankles. Tyler loved his Gramps dearly, but being seen with him in public was majorly embarrassing. He was ancient, in his nineties, though still lively for his age. He grew up in this house and always came to visit for Christmas.