Christmas decorations bounce and rebound. De-lighted.

Not from an explosion. Those lumpy multicolored piles on the lawns. Not laundry dropped. Or a drive-by rag tossing. Not a new form of gang turf wars. Just the daytime view.

A new form of gang tagging?

Now nighttime, it’s a somewhat intimidating marshmallow army: the Christmas yard inflatables. Something is humming and whooshing loudly at their backs. (Is that an intentional psychological battle weapon like bagpipes were? To keep dogs off their grass?) Each twilight they gush to life: glowing and bobbing. A wonderland of Christmas-themed puffy characters: Santa, snow globes with reindeer inside, and scary snowmen threatening to pull loose from their stakes and tumble with manic glee across the lawns. Proud homeowners gaze from inside while watching holiday shows on their flat screens.

The appeal is understandable.

Are Santa and Reindeer resting up?

Did Snowman and Santa duke it out last night?

Quick and easy. out of the box. Inflate and done. And if the neighbor gets one bigger, you can just go purchase another. A pair: matched in theme – or not? Apparently, not a thought. Just fill the space up. Keep the wife and kids happy (and easy to pack up and put away).

Too much eggnog?

Nooo! Say it ain't true: Trading the sleigh for a bike?

But while big and bright, are Christmas inflatables really right?

A Wise Man exhausted after his journey?

Holidays are for creating seasonal traditions – those childhood memories. How jolly is it for the kids? Bundle up (or put on the flip flops), fight the traffic to Wallymart/ Home-de-pro, using strategy worthy of an NFL team to locate a parking spot, –  only to grab the remaining torn box as kiddies sob and whine “I told you they’d be sold out of Mrs. Claus – now we only have Mr. Claus.” Oh, they’ll get over that. Just set it up and talk in positive phrases (while dialing frantically all other locations). Still, at night, all cheery and nice. It’s a Christmas scene that’s sure to delight?

Who needs the chore of stringing miles of Christmas lights?

Undoing the tangles – no matter how neatly packed the year before. Who would miss the hateful crunch of a light bulb as you stretch the string out across the floor? Do the kiddies really need to learn “don’t touch that – it’s hot”?  really means “don’t touch that – it’s hot!” And wouldn’t Christmas be more “silent night” without the cursing and struggling to get the ladder out of the garage (Can’t you guys put up the bikes in the right place? Who left the roller blades by the work bench? Your dad could have broken his leg). Kids are so stressed today, do they really need the anxiety? (Get out there and hold that ladder. He will not fall and crush you. Don’t be disrespectful. He’s trying to lose weight. Now get out there and help.) And spouses, so busy, how can they stop to find

OK. YOU see if you can find them.

those gutter clips, cup hooks, or even tiny nails (get me something – ANYTHING!) to finish hanging the last two and a half feet of lights. (No I can’t get off the ladder and just go buy some more. I told you look in the back of the left drawer.) Despite all the wiggling and jiggling, all lights finally up just right. Time to flip the switch – before dark, just in case…in case… why aren’t those 3 burning? I checked them all before starting! You saw me check them out. Is everything plugged in? What do you mean one of the extension cords was “acting funny”? Ah, the memories. Something every child must have to prepare them for their adulthood Christmases.

See, the annual Christmas lighting is a family gift that keeps on giving!

I’d like to chat more, but I guess we didn’t get the memo: “Thou shall adorn thy house with holiday wrap before the turkey cools.”

We’re late. So now I have to decide. What would Martha Stewart do? Yeah, roll all those lights into a huge lump and pitch it out between the trees (Contemporary art). Or maybe a slight variation by suspending it from a tree limb (in recognition of the miracle of recent meteor near misses)? Either way, de-lighted and done. All that’s left is to plop down a poinsettia on the porch, perhaps some tiki torches with red bows along the drive, and find a large, ornate, expensive-looking wreath.

What says Merry Christmas more than Tiki torches?

So I’ll be ready, with holiday eggnog in-hand, to face the neighborhood association glares with confidence and cheery “Ho-Ho-Ho” explanations. (And maybe speak with them about picking up all that colorful litter all over those yards)

Important to build those family Christmas traditions.

Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge

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