I hadn't really thought about that but I shrugged, "I hope not. I'll tell him not to in the morning and hope he listens." I then proceeded to strategically place the gifts so that he would have to go through all of his own before he got to his brother's. I figured that I'd hear the crinkling paper before he got all of Garrett's presents opened prematurely.
Neither boy really paid any attention to the gifts. At one point, Garrett did inform me that there were presents under the tree but they didn't even look closely at them. Last night, when I turned on the lights on the tree, Matthew followed me. He gently put his hands on one of the presents and started to pick it up.
I asked him to put it down. Then I dropped to my knees and pulled my youngest boy close. "Matthew, please don't open any of these presents until I tell you it's okay. Do you understand?"
He smiled sweetly and then put his mouth next to my ear. Whispering, he told me, "Mommy, doze burtday presins for Jesus." (Mommy, those birthday presents for Jesus.)
While I don't know that Jesus wants a pair of fuzzy Dinosaur Train crocs or a size 6 snow jacket, I was so happy that my youngest son, my not quite three-year-old, knows that Christmas is about Jesus's birthday. It actually warms my heart that he doesn't yet realize he gets gifts on the Savior's special day.