Christmas Eve is not the time to get buyer’s remorse. Everything is bought, wrapped and sitting in my car waiting to be delivered tomorrow morning. There’s no turning back now. If anyone doesn’t like what I got them, they can either be gracious and thank me anyway, or be honest and let me know. I’d probably be fine either way. (I’d probably have to be.)

I’ll admit I put a lot more thought into what I got the kids than I did into the adults’ gifts. It’s possible to take some of the presents the wrong way, as a sort of left-handed criticism (sorry, southpaws). What I’m saying is, “I think you can use one of these,” not, “Stop borrowing mine.”

As for the children’s treasures, well, they have to pass parental inspection, don’t they? At this point I can only hope, because it’s too late to exchange them for something “safe” or something on the “list.” I might have gone a little overboard, but as the indulgent uncle, I feel entitled. Anyway, it’s too late to worry (as if that has ever stopped me).

Tonight the family got together for dinner (fresh crab, straight out of the Pacific Ocean), so that we could all meet Tammy’s visiting grandmother, Cuki (not her name; I believe it’s Hungarian for something like “grandmother,” and it’s pronounced “Sookie,” like Buddy’s cousin).

She’s a pistol, full of stories told with the sharp wit of someone who’s given some deep thought to what life’s all about. She’s also a warm, caring person, and I’m glad we get to see her again tomorrow at the big feast. It’s going to be a wild and crazy day.