Creepy Crawler Bug Maker

My first conscious memory of Christmas is a blinding white light. As I felt my way down the hallway and stairs towards the Christmas loot, I could hear the whir of the camera my dad held. "Put your hands down and smile. Look at me," he'd direct. Thank goodness technology has changed and today's camcorders don't require stadium lights held on a pole. In flannel pajamas and overly curled hair, my sisters and I have some wonderful Christmas memories. I remember Dad trying to find the one burned out light bulb in the string of lights that made the whole tree dark. Only now in my married family, as the designated Christmas tree light technician, do I understand why he would send us from the room "until I tell you to come back".

Ol' Santa was good to us. One of my most memorable gifts was a Creepy Crawler Bug Maker. It had metal trays into which you poured some goop, dropped it into a hot plate, and minutes later, you had a stretchy creepy bug. I can still remember the smell of the plastic cooking. It is a wonder we weren't poisoned by toxic fumes. Though I don't remember asking for it, I was thrilled with it.

Five hours north of where I lived, a little boy three years my junior shook his head, confused. He had wanted very much a Creepy Crawler Bug Maker. Little did he know that already his path had crossed with mine and that someday, he would marry the young girl that Santa had mistakenly given his Creepy Crawler Bug Maker. In the meantime, what was he to do with his new Easy Bake Oven??