Until I was in the 6th grade, my brother and I slept in a double bed in an unheated bedroom over the garage. In the winter, the insides of the windows were frequently covered with beautiful frost designs. We slept in heavy flannel pajamas with feet in them. We did have an electric blanket.
On Christmas morning, we got up earlier than usual. We ran downstairs and put on our slippers that Mom always insisted we wear so we wouldn’t wear out our pajama feet and put on the brown corduroy robes she had made for us. After a good breakfast, usually bacon, eggs, toast, and milk, we were allowed to go into the front room where we had our Christmas tree and where Mom had hung our stockings on the mantle. Our stockings usually had an orange and apple, some chocolate and a few small toys.
Next we had to wait on Dad to load the film into the movie camera and place the dining room chairs in the proper positions for the flood lights to film our excitement. It seemed like it took FOREVER. Only then could we run into the front room to see the last minute additions under the tree and start ripping open all the wrapped packages that had been under the tree for some days.
Usually, Mom had sewn both of us some new clothes to wear to my grandparents’ later in the morning. Some of our other gifts were made by our parents and some were purchased. When it FINALLY got started, it was always GREAT.