Confessions of a Christmas Ornament

For months, I sat in the darkened attic smothered in tissue paper. I was crammed into a stuffy box with other ornaments, also wrapped in tissue paper like mummies. For most of the year, we sleep and dream of Christmas. We dream of the moment the bright light hits our faces, the fresh air stirs around us and it's once again our turn to shine.

You have no idea what life is like as a Christmas tree ornament. Particularly when you are not a normal ornament. As a fuzzy duck, I am not a "common" ornament. I'm not a reindeer, I'm not made from Styrofoam that's supposed to be snow and I don't chant "Ho ho ho!" I'm not red, I'm not shiny and instead of glitter, I have fuzz. Lots of fuzz. Actually, I'm not quite sure if I'm meant to be an ornament at all.

There's no hook on my back, no ribbon draped around my feet. Instead of hanging gently from a branch, I perch with my webbed feet. I am a Christmas duck.

However, last week the moment I waited for all year came. After I was discovered in the mound of wrapping paper I was placed on the front of the tree. The front of the tree! Near the top of the branches, right underneath the angel. A prime spot, indeed! There were other ducks on the tree, but no one was as high as I was. A sense of pride and accomplishment washed over me as I perched on my branch and peered down at my surroundings.

After awhile however, the joy wore off. As the white lights twinkled around me, I realized I was the only ornament that didn't glow! I didn't have a speck of glitter, a shred of shininess or a hint of twinkle! All I had was.....fuzz.

Depressed, I sadly perched on my branch. How was I worthy to sit under the angel? All the other ornaments glowed and shimmered in the soft flow of the lights. I looked like a wad of hair from a brush entangled on a branch. Sighing, I didn't even bother to preen when Ben picked me up.

"Hey," Ben called to the Blonde Duck as he delicately held me in his hand. "Check this out. This is the duck, right?"

Oh good God, I thought to myself in horror. What is he going to do to me? Is he going to cover me in glitter or make me dance in the mid-air, pretending to quack? This is sooo humiliating.

"This is the duck normally, right?" Ben repeated as the Blonde Duck looked on. I squinted my eyes in horror, terrified to look. "This is the duck skiing." He puffed out his cheeks and blew a stream of air, forcing all my fuzz to go flying behind me.

Once the blowing stopped, I cautiously opened my eyes. Ben and the Blonde Duck were cackling in delight.

"That's so cute!" the Blonde Duck squealed, coming over and gently stroking my head. "He has so much fuzz!"

"Isn't he cute?" Ben said as he jiggled me in his hand.

I'm cute! I thought to myself in delight. Even though I'm not glittery or shiny, they still like me! Hooray!

"Do it again!" the Blonde squealed. "Make him go skiing again!"

Oh no, I thought in dismay, wishing I could shake my head. Don't do it again. Don't go skiing again.

We went skiing again.

And again. And again. And again.

And finally, we went skiing again.

Mussed and windblown, I was returned to my perch on tree. This time, I stood tall and proud.

For I was the fuzzy Christmas duck.