Flashback: First Christmas

More for posterity's sake than any other reason, I've decided to occasionally share some of the funniest memories of The Husband and The Kid. You see, I have a terrible memory. So terrible, in fact, that I got an email from my best friend the other day saying: Hey EWO, remember that time...wait, no of course you don't. Forget it. And that was the whole email.
It's sort of a running joke.
Most of the time, I find it funny. But sometimes, I think it's sad. There are LOTS of things I want to forget but many, many more that I wish I could remember. Which led to this post, the first in a not-so-organized series of happy memories. So I can remember them down the line. You know, like next week.
Without further adieu, I give you, First Christmas:


The first Christmas The Husband (then boyfriend) spent with my family was about 6 months after we started dating. About six years ago. I'd never brought a boyfriend home before so my family was buzzing with excitement.
After a long day at work on Christmas Eve, we packed up my little Volkswagen and drove the hour to my parents house. Ever since they got married, my parents have hosted the Christmas Eve get-together. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends with no families of their own and friends so close they are like family come over to eat, drink and share embarrassing stories about my childhood.
We arrived to gossipy family members trying to decipher if he was a good guy and critiquing his sweater/cargo pants combo. Hugs all around. Mom insisted he help himself to a drink at the bar.
REWIND: About one month earlier, I introduced Then-Boyfriend to Mount Gay Rum, my choice adult beverage. I felt that it was time for him to graduate from Bacardi to the real stuff. I did not realize, at the time, that this simple introduction was going to lead to a lifetime of hangovers that I will forever be blamed for simply because I said, "Here, try this."
Back to the story at hand: Then-Boyfriend's eyes lit up when he wandered up to the bar to see not a pint, not a fifth, not even a liter but a handle of Mount Gay Rum resting comfortably next to a bottle of Coca-Cola.
Fix a drink. Down the hatch.
Glug. Glug. Glug.
He's getting along swimmingly with everyone. My dad, who doesn't like ANYONE, loves Then-Boyfriend. So much, in fact, that he catches me in the kitchen to tell me that he thinks this is the guy I'm going to marry. I tell him to shut up.
Glug. Glug. Glug.
Then-Boyfriend is having a great time. Laughing with Grampa. Sharing salty stories with Cousin. Pretending to be interested in Aunt's surgery story. Periodically getting up to refill his glass.
At some point later in the night, Then-Boyfriend decides to hit up the bar one last time. As he ambles through a narrow hallway in my parents' small colonial house, he stumbles a bit and bumps into a small table. No biggie, right?
The rest of this story is told from my sister's point of view, because I was either not present or not paying attention.
Remember how I said Then-Boyfriend was wearing cargo pants? Well, when he stumbled, the hammer loop on the pants got caught on the drawer of the small table.
Does he notice? No. Would you if you drank half a handle of rum?
He continues on his journey to the bar, but something has slowed him.
Step. Draaaaaaagggggggg. Step. Draaaaaaagggggggg.
He's walking with a noticeable limp.
Step. Draaaaaaagggggggg. Step. Draaaaaaagggggggg. Step. Draaaaaaagggggggg.
Why?
BECAUSE THERE IS A FRICKIN TABLE ATTACHED TO HIM.
My sister watched, half in horror, half in sheer delight, as he walked all the way down the hallway, through the kitchen and around the corner with the damn table stuck on his pants.
After he was out of sight, she went after him only to find him spending some more quality time with his new best friend, Mr. Mount Gay.
"Heeyyyyyyyy, what'ssss up?" Then-Boyfriend asks.
"Oh nothing," replies Sister. "Let me just get that for you."
And with that, she unhooked the table and carried it around the corner, through the kitchen and down the hallway, back to where it belonged.

My sister claims that it was that night that she, too, knew this was the man I was going to marry.