I grew up in Sweden. Christmas Eve was a big celebration. In the morning we decorated the tree and in the evening we had our special dinner. A big ham was the centerpiece but many other dishes were included; it was more like a smörgåsbord. After the meal we (the children) had to sit down and be patient because if we were lucky Father Christmas (Jultomten) would knock on our door. We heard the knock and a deep voice that said ”Good Evening, have I come to a house where good children live?” When he had been reassured that this was in fact the case he would enter the living room, open his sack, find a present and read the recipient's name. We then had to walk up to him, receive our presents, shake his hand and say a big thank you. Father Christmas was usually a male relative. We never questioned his identity! I do remember that my sister and I were a bit annoyed with our dad because every year he decided that he had to go out and buy a paper just before Father Christmas arrived...
Christmas Day was very relaxed. My mother loved it because there was plenty of leftovers so she could put her feet up. We would play with our toys and often put our skates on or go skiing with our friends. Happy, carefree days.
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