The Hooligan Brothers received some lovely books, also legos, several new games, very soft pajamas, striped socks.
I hate to say this, but whatever.
Much candy was found in the stockings. Ok, candy is cool. Also Legos are worth mentioning, BUT: Gump (my father) had been busy in his workshop. He presented them with 3 foot long wooden broadswords. Mamie (BAD Grandma!!!) brought nerf guns! YAY! Santa got carried away and left bows and arrows that shoot mini marshmallows (they seemed somehow wholesome and outdoorsy when I bought them at REI).
Poor old Santa had had a long night of it, with way too many cookies and glasses of scotch left by grateful parents. He was confused and left the large sized mallows, which the larger Hooligan ripped into right away (if you can't shoot them, eat them). Between the bedhead and the buck teeth, he resembled nothing so much as a large, sticky chipmunk.
They spent the day ricocheting among legos construction, hand to hand combat with the swords (which are works of art), and firing nerf darts at anything that moved (squirrels! the dog! the chickens! mom!). At least the bows and arrows will be out of commission until tomorrow when we can buy some little marshmallows. In between rounds they scarfed candy. Around noon we dragged them out to hike to the top of Spencer Butte. We decreed that city parks are weapon free zones and it would be a bummer to have a brand new armament get confiscated by a park ranger.
The smaller Hooligan wants to know why we don't celebrate 12 days of Christmas, like in the song.