Every Christmas Eve, we have a family tradition of ordering pizza for dinner and then lighting a fire in the fireplace, reading the Christmas story, and singing Christmas carols until we're hoarse.
This year, the city of San Jose banned the burning of wood fires, so we had to make due with candles. As my dad was reading the Christmas story, he started to trip over the words. (We were reading from the King James version, so the language, while beautiful, is a bit archaic.) There was a portion of the story where the baby Jesus was referred to as the "fruit of the womb". Well, my dad messed up and said "Fruit of the Loom". So we had to pause as we erupted in laughter. We then decided that the swadling clothes were Fruit of the Loom brand.
At least nobody accidentally called francincense "Frankenstein" this year.
Merry Christmas!
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