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Hi listeners, I'm Anthony Coons, and I have a story I want to tell you.

A story of presence and family and endless Christmas cheer.

So, gather around and listen. Close.

Come on. Get up. You gotta go upstairs. Get this over with.

Tim is young enough that there's still an excitement. Especially the presence.

I don't even care about that part anymore. I hate this whole day. I hate eating the same pancakes.

I hate the snowy landscape out the window. And I don't even want to see another stitch a wrapping paper.

And that song I swear to God.

Oh, Merry Christmas young tots. Have you been good boys this year?

Mm-hmm. Oh, come on. Where's your Christmas cheer? You know what happens to naughty kids.

I quickly plaster a smile on my face, but it says fake is the tree.

I think you can tell it's fake too. As long as he backs off, I don't care.

Fuck this day. Fuck the tree. And fuck that stupid Santa costume.

That's more like it. Just because you're a teenager now doesn't mean you're too big for Christmas. Isn't that right, Mom?

Ma nods vigorously, humming along to the music as she pours batter into the piping hot pan.

Tim bounces over to the table and plops down into his chair. I can tell he's hungry.

Staring over at Ma waiting for that moment when she plops a fluffy pancake down on his plate and ladders it with butter, syrup, whipped cream and fruit.

I'll come and hate this meal too.

I sit down next to him, just as Ma sits the first pancake in front of him. He looks to me for approval before he digs in though.

I know he wants me to like him. He looks up to me and wants to be on my side.

...