Too Much Christmas Morning

The story goes that I once had a tantrum when presented with a stack of Christmas gifts. Fell apart at the seams, kicked and screamed. Still in the toddle stage, I had been spoiled by grandmas and doting aunties all day long, dutifully tearing into one mound of Santa's blessings after another. When my parents and I arrived at Grandpa Jim's house that evening for  a rerun, I faced the Christmas tree and came unglued. Poor Grandpa.
Well, here I am confessing that emotional little girl still lives somewhere inside this grown up. She revealed herself sometime a week or two ago and as often as I tried to reason her away, she came back with all her baby tears. The more I talk it out, the more I blubber, and the less sense I make. "My daddy leaves town tomorrow." *Sob* "Another donation posted to my account!" *Bawl* *I have too much to do in one week!" *waaa* "My dream is really coming true!" *boohoo* Maybe I've had too much Christmas morning.