The 5 Stages of Christmas Eve Toy Assembly

1. Denial

You’re in the first stage, trying to convince yourself those seven Amazon boxes are just filled with adorable plush toys. Wait, it’s already 11 p.m.? No worries, this will be a breeze—we’ll be in dreamland by midnight! Surely most of these toys come pre-assembled, right? I mean, I was the president of the German club back in the day and breezed through shop class like a champ. Who needs batteries? I grabbed all the batteries we’ll need, in all the right sizes! I totally know where the drill is, and it’s fully charged. The tiny screwdriver? Right where I left it! The pre-drilled holes are definitely… pre-drilled. This time, I swear we won’t need that 9-inch Santoku knife, pliers, jaws of life, or even a blow torch. I promise!

2. Blame

Ah, here come the snarky remarks from the partner who did zero toy shopping and was asked to help with assembly weeks ago. And don’t forget the “over Christmas” parent who’s been on a toy-hunting spree since Halloween, finally scoring that coveted item that your child has been begging for. “It’s your fault—we don’t need all this stuff!” “Oh, really? It’s YOUR fault for not helping out sooner!” “Well, it’s your mother’s fault for spoiling our kids with all these toys!” Seriously? It’s your fault for not having any female sperm! Now, go ahead and take that two-foot-long Hot Wheels track and find somewhere else for it. I’m heading to bed.

3. Reminiscing

Ah, the sweet peace of Christmas Eve before kids—just the two of us by a warm fire, enjoying a dinner that didn’t include anything shaped like a nugget, and no toys to assemble while we battle fatigue. We could sleep in until 11 a.m., savoring coffee and intimate conversations, exchanging thoughtful gifts. Remember our first Christmas as a married couple, eagerly awaiting our little one? We couldn’t wait for our child to sit on Santa’s lap, write adorable letters, and truly believe in the magic of Christmas. It’s all a blur now, hidden beneath years of baby-proofing our home. Here’s to waking up tomorrow at 5 a.m., admiring our oh-so-romantic gift of a new hot water heater. What are your plans for New Year’s Eve? Set the alarm for midnight so we can sneak in a smooch!

4. “We’re Done Having Kids”

This realization usually hits a few kids in, around 2 a.m., with tired eyes and rising frustration. Just when your hungry baby cries out for food, the toddler starts wailing about a nightmare. And you’re still struggling to assemble the perfect workbench for your son. “Don’t you dare touch me again!” she says. “Let’s have another baby,” he retorts, “You said it’d be fun!” “I’m never having sex with you again,” she replies. “How could we? They all sleep with us!” he argues. “NO. MORE. KIDS.” “Fine, you win.” But hey, you’ll probably end up with two more anyway.

5. Acceptance

Finally, you both give in and just get it done. You work together like a team of little elves, summoning whatever energy you can muster to finish the task. You might chuckle over the earlier arguments, but soon you’re stepping outside to try out the shiny new scooter, tossing a football, and rolling a soccer ball around. You carefully write “From Santa” on the new bike, push trains along their tracks, and stuff stockings. You might even steal a few minutes of sleep, relief washing over you as you think about the joyful sounds of your children racing around the house at sunrise. You’ve accepted your roles as adults, and once again, you’ve survived another Christmas Eve as mom and dad. Merry Christmas!

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Summary

Christmas Eve toy assembly can be a rollercoaster of emotions, from initial denial to blame, reminiscing about the carefree days before kids, and finally accepting your fate as tired parents. As you navigate through the chaos, remember to cherish these moments, even amidst the chaos of assembling toys late at night.