As the oldest grandchild I always felt it was my duty to ensure Christmas festivities started as early as humanly possible. This "enthusiasm" lead me to spend Christmas eve sleeping on the floor in Grandma and Grandpa's room. I was given STRICT rules that I was not allowed to move until Grandpa got up out of bed and left his room - The sneaky bugger even told Santa because I used to get an Archie comic at the foot of my bed to keep me occupied until it was "Go Time". All of this for the most ridiculous memory of my Grandfathers feet. When his feet swung off that bed and hit the floor I knew that the next 12 hours of family, presents,and laughter was about to start.