Days of Christmas: Day 24: Ghosts of Christmas Past

Once again, I have scoured the archives (of our photo albums) to find and share some treasured memories of holidays past with you, our blog audience. Let's see what I found.

First, we start with a scene from Christmas morning circa maybe 1989?
To some people, "bed head" means flattened, smashed hair. To me, it means VOLUME. You will see as we progress. But, it's still true today. This was the year by brother Davidtron got his sweet teal bike with pegs and wheel-covers--for tricks. Remember when trick bikes were so cool?

Next, we shift back in time a bit to Christmas, 1983. I was 4 years old and SOOO much cuter than you.
How cute would I be in that dress now?

Christmas isn't all about me, though (yes it is).
Teenbot and Littletron hugged in front of the tree at their Meemaw's house a few years ago. It's nice to think that if aliens or people from the future ever see our pictures, they will think we were a loving family.

The sweetest PJs award goes to Sparklebot's dad:
Though, I think my floor-length night shirt puts me at a close second. Thanks for helping me get the Cabbage Patch and Pony out of the box, dad.

Beards were different back then.

When Littletron was even littler:
1983. Sparklebot stars in her pre-school Christmas play as the cutest elf:
Someone should have taught me to sit in a more ladylike fashion. I struggle with that even today.

I found the reason Troubletron thinks Santa is a child molester:
He probably just wanted your awesome belt, dear.

Did Chuck-E-Cheese blink when that photo was taken? Confusing.

Sparklebot and Davidtron pose by Sparklebot's gingerbread house--Christmas 1984.
I carried around that life-saver man for MONTHS.

The Thug-life GQ award goes to Troubletron (far right):
Suave, baby. Suave.

The Christmas Sparklebot got her skateboard:
(and the year Snowbird made Sparklebot get a boy haircut against her will). Wasn't my black sheep sweater AWESOME? I'd kill for one today.

Side note: that's pretty much the only way I've ever been able to successfully ride a skateboard--sitting/kneeling.

Most likely to become a wife-beater on Christmas morning:
Oh Troubletron. Haha. It's not your fault . . . just like the wall-paper in my parents' basement (aka the pimp-cave) wasn't my fault. We are the victim of our families.
In 1983 (above), I got a little kitchen (so I can learn to be a good wife who cooks), some roller skates, a care bear, my Garfield sleeping bag, and . . .
STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE!!!

My face is so amazing in that picture. So are Davidtron's footed pjs. So is the shiny wallpaper. So is the carpet-on-the-walls. So is the brown corduroy built-in couch. In fact, I'm having a hard time finding something that is NOT amazing in that photo.

Ok, this one isn't technically a Christmas picture, but the snowflake-patterned sweater makes it close enough.
His mullet is growing in nicely, and his chain is perfectly placed over his turtleneck.

That's my man.

And, finally, again, my bed head is SO MUCH BIGGER than yours.
I hope Christmas present will be just as great for us as these memories of Christmases past.