I was thinking about Christmas back when I was a kid. What wonderful memories!
We'd hop into the car (well, not really but it sounds good) and leave San Antonio when it was still dark, and my dad would drive for hours until we arrived in central Arkansas some time during the afternoon, in the little rural town where he grew up and where his family lived. (The reality was when we were little he carried our sleeping selves from bed and plopped us into the car, a 1955 Buick. I remember it being a four-door sedan.)
Then it was time to spend two weeks with grandma and grandpa, the cousins, uncles and aunts, eat and eat and drink sodas for free from the machine in one uncle's engine repair shop.
Every evening was a riot! Everybody would be crammed into grandma's large living room (at least I remember it as being large), and everybody seemingly talking at once. A dozen conversations going on at once! How they did it, who knew!? And then we, the young ones, would be playing and making our own noise, and checking out the gifts under the tree.
Then it was time for Christmas. We traded gifts on Christmas Eve, and on Christmas morning there were more gifts, but this time from Santa! (Nowadays, as a father and grandfather, I understand how important it is for Santa to arrive after all the good little boys and girls have gone to sleep!)
Then finally, sadly, we had to leave. We'd pack the Buick and leave in the darkness, and finally get back to San Antonio later that day. Then, school started again. Yuk.
-------
As you get older, you usually look back fondly on the good old days, which become better and better with age. :-)