On Christmas morning at the farm, the deal was that the kids could open one gift and then we had to wait for everyone to have breakfast. We gulped down our eggs and toast so the kids could get started, but Grandma wasn’t about to eat fast. In fact, she chewed so slowly it drove us crazy. The kids stood next to her watching her jaws working up and down, up and down. I wanted to grab her by the nose and chin and make her chew faster: "Eat, Grandma–EAT!!!" She worked each wedge of toast, each crumb of bacon, into her mouth in dreary, intolerable slow motion. Suddenly, the kids took charge. They roared over to the tree and began to divide up the loot. A "Santa" was chosen, and before Grandma had sipped her coffee, the opening began. As I recall, Grandma was largely oblivious to the commotion going on around her and so a new Christmas tradition was born: everyone has to have breakfast…except Grandma.