I can't help but feel Christmas Day is not quite what it used to be.
I'm now too old to receive a skateboard from Santa, spend the day grazing all four limbs, then crying when I break it that very afternoon (Christmas '93).
Too old to wrestle with my brother until it descends into a fight (Christmas '95 to '03).
I'm too far away to race our crudely fashioned go-kart around the paths of my parents' home until the repeated crashes leave a hole in the fence (Christmas '97).
And I'm too mature to spend several days reminding my younger sister to leave cake and milk for Santa, only for her to catch me eating it on Christmas Eve (Christmas '99).