“Let’s just pick up a gift card and call it a day.”

The words pierce my ears. There is nothing more disappointing to a child than tearing minimal wrapping paper, only to find a plastic card that conveys, “I really don’t know what you like, nor do I care to take the time to ask.”

As I have grown older, my family bothers less and less to ask if I want anything other than cash and gift cards anymore. The closer I get to becoming an adult, the more plastic cards I find myself opening on Christmas morning.

On December trips to Kroger, my mom tells me to pick out Christmas cookies to bake. “Making them from scratch is too messy,” she says. “I don’t want flour all over my nice counters when the family is going to be coming over.” She and I compromise on the packaged, pre-cut out squares. I am 16, and she doesn’t feel the need to entertain my Christmas needs any longer.

As a self proclaimed Christmas enthusiast, I can’t help but be bothered by and resistant to the holiday slump that adults seem to fall in. After brawling for Xboxes and chasing after iPads on Black Friday, everyone’s Christmas energy seems burnt out before Cyber Monday. Now that I’ve grown up, I feel the pressure to lessen my excitement over the holidays and conform to the adult peer-pressure.

However, my holiday spirit will not budge. I will not be told that it’s not still acceptable to wear my Christmas hat around the house all of December or rot my teeth on candy canes all day. I will watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas on repeat, as if I hadn’t already seen it a hundred times. The tinsel on the tree will bring my the joy of a child, and I will show everyone my favorite ornaments, even if they don’t care to know.

Growing up doesn’t mean that I have to default to being a grinch, the persona the adult population seems to demonstrate nowadays. Being mature doesn’t mean being serious. So have a merry Christmas, and lighten up a little.