Da is up at the top of the stairs handing things down to us. Us is me, my brother Eric, and David, my boyfriend at the time.
It was a long process and we were all pretty crabby and dusty towards the end.
“Here’s a box of ornaments,” Da said. “Be careful.”
“Here’s the wreath.”
“Here are the outside lights, put those over in the corner.”
Finally, he got to the last box. The three of us looked up expectantly at Da, leaning down with that trademark half-serious grin.
“And here. Here’s the goddamned manger.”
Thanks to Da, every manger, anywhere (especially in my own house, dragging out decorations in December) is referred to as The Goddamned Manger.