I didn't like my stepfather, but his family did Christmas right. We'd all go to his parents' house, and it seemed like there were a hundred family members there

I didn't like my stepfather, but his family did Christmas right. We'd all go to his parents' house, and it seemed like there were a hundred family members there. Incredible food, tamales, a big pot of beans and fresh corn tortillas, carnitas. The grandfather did the Santa Claus tradition, handing out the presents in full costume and character, after which my 50 step-cousins and I would absolutely destroy whatever toys we had just received. When bedtime arrived, of course there weren't enough beds for everyone, so each of us kids would grab couch cushions, find a nook somewhere between two pieces of furniture, and sleep like the dead on the 1970s plush carpet. My mom wised up a few years later and divorced him, instantly improving the other 364 days of the year. But I missed those crazy Christmases.