personal pheasant.

OK. Remember when it was 2010? Now those were the good ole' days. And Christmas 2010. Phew! If your family is like my family, you would have had 3-4 celebrations of Christmas fantasticalness. And the first one would have occurred somewhere in the west side of Michigan.

Everyone arrives. There is hugging and kissing all around. Well...maybe not so much kissing. Let's keep this G-rated. Even though the whole family is there, let's not kid ourselves. It's really all about the little cousins: The quintessential quadruple sibling awesomeness at any gathering.

First you have the sweet one. She is the oldest and wisest. Likes horses. Will play games with you. But don't let her seemingly shy exterior fool you, because she will make her younger brothers toe the line. Then you have the cracker jack. For being in Kindergarten, this kid is on it. He is wittier than everyone else at the table. And when he gets you, I will be there to laugh...at with you. The third little guy is the fun-lover of the bunch. One second he's sitting on your lap, the next he's spilling water on your lap, and then, all of a sudden, while you're holding his older brother upside down, BOOM! He magically appears to kick him in the head. I mean, that's classic brotherly love. And finally, you have "the baby". Literally, he's a baby. He's all eatin', sleepin', cryin', crawlin', poopin'--and everyone is just Eating. It. Up. Let me tell you, he's good at what he does. Better than TV.

Eventually we get hungry, so we move the party to the table, which is fabulous. Covered in sparkly sparkles, my aunt brings out this platter filled with personal pheasants. Yes, my friend, somewhere out in nature, one pheasant died just for me. I bet his name was Fred. He liked berries and singing pheasant songs. Fred was a family bird. Loved his wife and kids. But don't feel sad, because they ended up on the platter too.

After dinner comes the ripping off of the wrapping paper to reveal the surprising goodness that is inside. And I get one of the best. No, it's not the hairspray (even though I use it like I live in the 80s). It is a gorgeous, handmade bracelet from my sweet cousin. Purple and blue and shimmery-shiny, it's sparkling so much that "the baby" just has to put it in his mouth. Made with love and sealed with saliva. Now that is a precious gift.

I love my family. And, imagine, this is only one side of it.