That Little Drummer Boy
As I little girl, I loved....wait....repeat in all caps....LOVED watching the yearly Christmas specials on television. Right after Thanksgiving, I poured over the weekly TV guide (remember the paper version?), highlighting all my favorites. There was The Year Without a Santa Claus . I was definitely Team Heat Mizer. Cold Mizer had the chill and the height, but Heat, he had the sass. Then there was Rudolph and Charlie Brown and Frosty and the Grinch. Loooved the Grinch in all his humor and grinchiness. I marked each and every one on my mother's calendar, happily anticipating several evenings of laughter, hot chocolate, and blissful escapes to chilly claymation wonderlands. But in all my giggly girlhood, there was always one that rather rocked my world. That little drummer boy. I think every emotion pulsed through my eight...nine...ten year old self as I watched this 22 minutes year after year. Fear. Laughter. Joy. Tears. Those evil bandits. T...