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“I’ve never driven on Route 66 but I hit I-25 all the time. And I make the names.” Tommy shrugs defiantly.
“He really came up with all these?” Liam seems impressed, until I correct him.
“No. He went on a cruise with my aunt in high school, and he wasn’t old enough to get into the adult bars, but he was too old for the kids’ club. So, he played Bingo the whole time. That’s where he learned most of these. He did make up a couple though.”
“I-21. Social,” Tommy calls as everyone clinks their glasses together, and I sneak a little wink in Liam’s direction as I bring my glass to my lips.
He had a good laugh when I told him Christmas Eve was my favorite part of the holiday since we’d be playing Bingo, then spent the next half hour apologizing profusely when he realized I was serious.
I get it. Bingo sounds like something you do when you move into a retirement home, but the way we play it is awesome. Each time someone wins they get to steal a present from another person at the table, and after each of us has a chance to call the game we stop and open whichever package is sitting in front of us.
We’re not exactly sure how long the tradition has been going on for. Grandpa remembers playing with his grandparents as a kid, so at least seventy years I would think, since you aren’t allowed to join until you’re ten, and he’s pushing eighty.
I remember thinking how unfair that was as a kid that Tommy got to play when I didn’t since he’s two years older than me. The first year I finally got to participate, my present was Spam, which Aunt Cheryl bought on a trip to Hawaii because it’s a local favorite.
I definitely made it known I didn’t like the results. But I learned that I liked Spam though, since I was forced to eat it after that tantrum, and realized it’s not half bad mixed with eggs.
“Grandma Bingo, O-74,” Tommy calls as Liam shouts, “Bingo.”
“Worst caller ever,” Grandpa huffs as he clears his card, receiving a backhanded smack on the arm from Grandma in return.
Then she looks at Liam and picks up the present in front of her, rattling it as she wags her brows. “This one makes quite a bit of noise.”
“This one’s heavy as shit.” My dad makes a pained face as he pretends to struggle with his package.
“Look at the wrapping on this one.” Cheryl holds hers up for inspection. “Isn’t it beautiful.”
“We all know that one’s yours Mom, you just don’t want to get stuck with your own present.” Tommy shakes his head then shout-whispers to Liam. “They look pretty, but she sucks at getting Bingo gifts. Don’t be fooled.”
“Your presents aren’t under the tree yet, son. Santa’s watching,” Cheryl tells Tommy.
“Go for the big one, Liam.” Mom hoists the largest package on the table. “Size matters.”
“Eew, Mom,” I groan. “No one wants to hear you say anything about size.”
“She’s not wrong, though.” Tommy fist bumps her.
“Tommy!” I balk.
“I was talking about present size. God, get your head out of the gutter. This is a family game.”
Liam snorts back a laugh before letting his eyes dart around the room, the pressure of stealing a present putting a somewhat nervous expression on his face. Finally, he gestures toward Grandpa, who’s still sulking about his loss, and says, “That one.”
“Kiss ass,” Tommy mumbles.
After several more rounds, and a battle between Tommy and my mom over the biggest package, which Tommy wins, everyone’s had a chance to call the game, so it’s time to open presents.
“You first Grandpa, you’re the oldest.” Dad gets in a little jab.
“At least that’s good for something,” Grandpa grunts as he reaches for his present, a giant chocolate chip cookie that says Merry Christmas in thick red icing. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He breaks off a chunk and brings it to his mouth, smacking Tommy’s hand away as he tries to help himself to a piece.
Grandma gets a Battery Daddy, a little carrying case that has every size battery imaginable, and Cheryl gets a waterproof phone case with a suction cup so you can stick your phone to the shower tile and listen to music.
“Trade ya,” Tommy says to his mom.
“You don’t even know what you got yet,” she dismisses him and turns her attention to her brother, my dad, who’s got her elegantly wrapped gift.
“A clock?” Dad turns the box over in his hand once he’s got all the paper off.
