I've written about it before, and even though my husband and I have been together for over twenty years, it never fails to annoy me that he hates Christmas.
In many, many ways he is a big softie at heart.
But Christmas utterly fails to impress him even one tiny bit. I think it is a carry over from his family's crappy, alcoholic past and he vowed long ago that once his oldest brother drunkenly mistook the tree for a urinal, that Christmas was dead to him forever.
I was foolish enough to think that when we had kids, it would get better. I mean, no man loves his kids more than Hubba-hubba, so I figured he would at least try for their sakes.
I have to nag him to get the Christmas boxes down from the garage rafters, nag him to put up the Christmas lights, and nag him to pretend to enjoy decorating the tree together as a family, dammit.
After hearing him grumble about having to take the boxes down this year, I give up. I think I've been delusional long enough.
I think I am just going to get him some green body paint and a little stuffed dog and leave it at that.