Our first Christmas in Tivoli in our new home. A few days before Christmas my friend Jane Olah came over to make cookies. We had taken a break and were enjoying a cup of tea, while our kids - she had two boys - Scott who was Maria's age, and Bret or Bear, who was Laura's age, were playing in the girls' room upstairs with Paul who was only two. They had been unusually quiet for some time, when there was a flutter of activity, and we could hear them running down the stairs to the kitchen. Maria was crying and the others were all looking guilty. At a closer look we saw they all had chocolate on their faces and on their hands. "I told them not to do it," Maria bawled. Then I realized they had gotten into the wrapped presents and somehow found the box of candy for my Aunt and Uncle. I should have known. The Olahs had a reputation for eating anything. We first found this out at a birthday party where we had played "find the peanuts", hiding peanuts throughout the yard. As the other kids were counting them to see who found the most, the Olah's were eating them, shells and all. Then Maria had an Easter egg she had saved for over a year, one of spun sugar, with a little Easter scene in it of bunnies and chicks. Scott ate most of that before she could stop him. Jane was not surprised. She told us he had once eaten the styrofoam picnic cooler and Bear had once opened her purse and ate all her birth control pills. That was when she started to carry a bottle of ipecac with her at all times. Once she was shopping in the Grand Union, both boys in the cart, when an older woman ran up to her. "Dear sweet Jesus," she screamed, "He's sucking on a can of Draino", pointing to Bear, who did have the can in his mouth. "It's ok," Jane reassured her patting her purse, "I have ipecac with me." So we weren't surprised when we went upstairs and saw several packages unwrapped until they had hit gold and found the box of candy. The now empty box of candy was surrounded by brown candy wrappers. I declined an offer from Jane to buy another box of candy but they soon put on their coats and left. The presents were rewrapped, another box of candy purchased and we were ready for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, shortly before midnight, Maria came into my room. "My throat hurts," she whined and we went downstairs for her medicine. The stress of moving, starting a new school, making new friends had weakened her and Jane had directed us to Dr. Zipser, the local Red Hook physician who prescribed the red medicine that was popular then. I settled Maria on the couch under a cover and lit the Christmas tree. After we shared a cup of tea, she began to feel better. The tree looked beautiful with all the presents around it, Santa had already come. The room was drafty and every now and then the tinsel would blow gently making it even more beautiful. We were both sleepy when we heard a sound in the kitchen. I put on the light and then we saw a mouse, struggling with a big piece of cat food, trying to get in the crack in the floor. He didn't seem to mind the light, and kept squeaking as he tried harder to get the morsel to his home. I whispered, "Not a creature was stirring...." and Maria finished, "not even a mouse." We both smiled and I felt such comfort in our new home and our first Christmas there. I still do - Merry Christmas and God Bless.