The best part of Christmas morning when I was a kid, were the stockings. Mom must have loved that tradition, too, since she started buying things for it in August. So by the time December 25th rolled around, the red and white stockings could not hold all the little gifts of candy, lip balm, socks and, of course, scrunchies.
Santa Clause never filled those stockings. We never did "believe" in Santa Claus. Instead, my very wise mom and dad would stuff the Christmas stockings in their bedroom on Christmas Eve and leave them propped up along their wall. It was really a smart move on their part so they could just point from the warmth of their bed whose stocking belonged to whom, and not need to come out to the cold living room for that Christmas morning ritual.
The kids would all wake each other up (I was a good sleeper, rarely the first one up) and race to our parents' room search for our heavily stuffed stockings. Then we would all cram onto mom and dad's water bed to unload (quite the task when there were nine of us kids).
The most interesting stocking stuffer for my sister, Eva, and me was always a jar or two of canned baby food. The fruit or desserts, of course, none of that veggie stuff. I don't remember exactly when it started, or when it ended but it came about when we begged mom to try some of our brother's food. It was great. Don't remember if any of the other kids ever got that, or if it was just our thing. I'm hoping Eva or mom will post to this and remind me!
Those were the Christmas stocking memories that I try to pass along, although with only three kids it's not quite as chaotic keeping the treats separated and they don't quite understand the Apple Cobbler Dessert in the toe. But they do understand the family time and the importance of sneaking onto our bed and not leaping. . . I still treasure my sleep, even on Christmas morning.