By Zach Anderson

We may not see eye to eye, but we’re family.

Only a few times a year do I have the pleasure of entering a home that is occupied by such an eclectic and memorable group of people, and they all happen to be related to me. I’ll share three moments from my Christmas Eve. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Among the attendees was my ultraconservative uncle, who’s always looking for a verbal battle about surface-level politics and ideologies that aren’t appropriate for any of the young children in earshot. When pouring me a cup of hot joe on this festive day, he asked me if I still like my coffee like I like my presidents. I simply smiled, grabbed the mug of black coffee, and swallowed down the caffeinated beverage in order to keep my mouth occupied while he went on to ask me if my beard was a sign that I was converting to Islam.

A cousin of mine uttered some similarly naïve phrases during the celebration, but this little boy’s words were much more entertaining, and his elf hat and penguin slippers only aided in the innocent tone of his words. At one point, when discussing how gross it is that I kiss my wife, he described a scene from a film that was so repulsive in nature that he was forced to hide his pure eyes as “a boy and girl British kissed.” I believe he was referring to a style of kissing that is often called “French,” but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

Later, during a heated game of Wii Tennis, my twin brother thought it wise to cross in front of the television. My wife, with a powerful swing of the remote that Andre Agassi would have envied, hit my brother directly below the belt. After dropping straight to his knees, a young cousin inquired about his sudden injury. When she asked if he got hit in the eye, my brother lightly uttered the response, “Yes.”

All violence and disagreements aside, though, we enjoyed each other’s company as usual. I look forward to the next holiday so that we can do it again. I’m so thankful for this bizarre gathering, and I can only assume that mine is a common story.