The Christmas presents were opened, the ham was eaten, and The Hobbit was seen. It was the end of Christmas Day. Bobby lay in bed, thinking about the great presents he’d received. He was almost as anxious to get up tomorrow to play with them as he had been to get up today to open them. He went over what he had received, checking things off the extensive mental Christmas list he kept.
He fell asleep with a full stomach, dreaming of Legos and Ninja Turtles, and all the other things of which boys drunk on the Christmas season dream.