I've heard some grief today over publicly calling my husband a scrooge. What's wrong with a little (or a lot) honesty? Randy is a scrooge. He knows he's a scrooge. I know he's a scrooge. My entire family knows he is a scrooge. I think his children even know he's a scrooge. Christmas is his least favorite holiday. He tolerates my excitement and joy. He grumbles about the Christmas tree and decorations and baking and how stressed out I get. He does not enjoy caroling or shopping; I love both. He does not like to get out of bed early on Christmas morning and I can't stand to sleep past 5:00 or so. When it comes to Christmas, we are polar opposites. So in a home where one of us loves the season and everything that comes with it, yes, he is a scrooge.
It doesn't mean I love him any less.
Happy Holidays!
1 comment:
Yea, now I found your blog, too. It sounds like your scrooge could give my scrooge a run for his money! Rylie and I went shopping the day after Thanksgiving and she asked me if I ever go Christmas shopping with Dad. I said, "Not if I can help it." He is pretty much a milder version of your scrooge. Go red, green and gold!
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