I don't know what it is about Christmas: If I blow an air horn in my 15-year-old daughter's ear and have the dog lick her in the mouth, I can't get her out of bed 364 days a year, but on Christmas morning, she's up before her 7-year-old brother.

I like this time of year. Despite the stress, the obligations, the traffic, the long lines, the mean people who cut me off, the expense, and of course the noise, noise, noise, noise, noise, as Andy Williams once sang, `It's the most wonderful time of the year.' I think we can all agree on that.

There are certain things that happen in December that make this time of year really special.

For instance, this is the one time of year where we can tell our kids, "Put it on your list" -- and it WORKS! When one of the kids upsets me, I can always bring out another time-honored threat: "If you don't behave, I'm gonna call Santa's toll free hotline: 1-800 BRING-THE-BOY-A-BAG-OF-ROCKS."

That does work great for The Boy, but when we use it on the girls, they just look at us like we're crazy.

Every year, Mrs. P and I sit down and draft a letter to the children regarding their Christmas list. We try to simplify The List, which the kids always try to make more difficult than it really is.

We have our annual formal letter -- signed by an attorney -- to help us in case a legal matter should ever arise. Mostly, our letter just spells out to the kids – for their protection -- what is expected of them when they draw up their lists.

If you don't mind, I'd like to share with you a copy of our letter …

Dear Sir or Madam:

We hope you have a Merry Christmas. In order to ensure you maximize your joyfulness during the holidays, please adhere to the following Christmas List Guidelines:

1. Automobiles are out. Presents should bring joy. When a 15-year-old asks for a car -- that is not joyful. Neither is it remotely funny.

2. All requests must be for items that can be wrapped and remain living. You can't wrap a puppy so don't ask for one unless it is manufactured in bulk by a toy company AND DOES NOT BREATHE.

3. Concert tickets to any teen boy band will not be given as gifts unless said boy band agrees to come play -- unplugged -- in our backyard for free. When done, said boy band must clean up after themselves and then disappear from the face of the earth forever.

4. If you submit multiple lists (in case mom and dad mislay the first list), a gift request MUST appear on BOTH lists to qualify as "a genuine want." If the gift request appears on just one list, we'll naturally think you don't need it and you put it on your list just because you saw it on a TV commercial 30 seconds ago.

5. Do NOT ask for anything furry, stuffed or cute that represents a creature that has never existed in real life. Like a Furby. Or a Teletubby. Or an Elmo. Or a blue dog. If we're gonna buy it, we've got to know what it is. Snoopy Dogs and Garfield cats are OK -- those things really lived.

6. If every 7-year-old in the entire world wants one, you don't need it. Trust me on this one. If you get something that everyone else EVERYWHERE wants, six months from now, you won't even be able to find it, and if you do, you won't want to play with it anymore.

7. Thou shalt not ask for presents that contain 10,000 pieces. For example, Lite Brites and Lincoln Logs. Really boring toys, you'd hate them.

8. Thou shalt not ask for loud toys. If it screams, bangs, dances, sings, claps, cries or shoots bullets, you wouldn't like it so forget it.

Now that the groundwork has been laid and the rules established, have a nice Christmas. We love you, we just want to shop wisely and we don't want to have to buy you anything that will be messy, loud or in a garage sale in six months.

Love, Mom and Dad

What bothers both Mrs. P and me about Christmas is the notion that one of our children may one day actually try to sneak a peek at their presents when we're not around. If you're a parent, I think you know what I'm talking about.

Our daughters say they have never tried to do this -- and I believe them. One reason I know they have never done this is that they have never, ever come to either me or Mrs. P with that ashen, "Oh-my-God-I-Saw-A-Present-And-I-Didn't-Mean-To, Do-You-Still-Love-Me?" look on their faces.

I still remember the day I lost my facial coloring when I was a kid. I was rooting through my parents' closet. I didn't want to actually SEE a gift, I just wanted to know where they were in case I should ever WANT to sneak a peek.

Which I never would. Honest.

Sometimes when I would go rooting, I would lift open the top of a plastic department store bag or undo the tape at the end of the wrapping paper, closing one eye in the process so it wouldn't be too hard to stop myself if I thought I was ABOUT to see something I wasn't supposed to.

But I always pulled back at the last moment, just before I knew I was about to see something.

Except for once.

It wasn't a big present, but it was something I had asked for. It was a book named "How to be An NFL Star." I was just 9 at the time, and I used to have these weird delusions about being a professional football player. I know -- it's hard to believe I squandered all that athletic potential. To those of you who know me, it's obvious I would have had unlimited ability as an NFL star -- maybe a linebacker? -- had I chosen to pursue this dream.

Anyway, the moment I peeked and saw "How To Be An NFL Star," I felt really, really bad. I felt like I had betrayed mom and dad. But over 30 years after sneaking that peek … they have ALMOST forgiven me, even though mom still double wraps my presents.

Mrs. P and I have also taken steps to ensure that our children will never sneak a peek at their presents. I'm sure our daughters won't do it.

It's The Boy we're worried about. We are resigned to the fact that he will most assuredly be a peeker, and there's not a lot we can do about that. However, we can take some precautions to assure that if he DOES try to peek, he won't have much success. Here's what we've done at our house to protect the gifts under the tree from the internal intruders called nosy kids:

-- We have installed really small car alarms on each of the presents under the tree. If he tries to sneak a peek, everyone in the neighborhood will know about it.

-- Mrs. P has taken the time to spray paint a chalk outline around where each of the presents were placed when they were first put under the tree. Sorta like what cops on TV do when there's a murder.

-- We've TOLD our kids that what hangs from the tree are decorative ornaments. But they're not. They're really nothing more than little glass balls with tiny surveillance cameras in them recording the kids' every movement.

-- The angel at the top of the tree is no angel at all. She's actually a really small, full-time security guard keeping an all-night vigil over the presents under the tree. When she sees something amiss, she radios down to the tiny little guy who looks like the conductor of the train but is really the Director of Security. Together the two of them are in charge of insuring that NO one sneaks a peek in the Patterson house.

-- Around the perimeter of our tree, on the exterior of the train track, we have placed 350 small, green, heavily armed toy soldiers. If The Boy tries to take an early look at any of his presents, we are issued an immediate, classified report from the unit commander, and we take away the boy's Pringles for a week. And I think we all know how distressing that would be.

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