"When did we win the lottery?"
When you were seven you had never seen more than forty-five dollars in one place, so the thought that you'd spend that much money on a gift for one person is earth shattering. Do you know how much lemonade you'd have to sell in December to acquire that amount of wealth? Yes, you're an adult who can do math. When you were seven you could get away with giving mom something you made in art class, but now you have some means of income so a "push pot" just isn't going to cut it.
"Clothes? You can't play with clothes."
When you were seven, clothes were something that your mom forced you to wear instead of a Batman costume and Christmas was a day when you received toys from a pleasantly plump elf. In one fell swoop you have taken toys out of Christmas and replaced them with pieces of boring fabric. Where there was Hot Wheels and video games now rests a size medium pea coat. A coat that you can't even use to play in the snow. Blasphemy. Seven year old you is disgusted and you don't have the heart to tell him the truth. Hot Wheels won't help you get laid.
"This came from the North Pole. How can you return it at Macy's?"
When you were seven, getting a bicycle or pair of Nike Pumps that were too big for you just meant you had to wait a few months to grow into them. Problem solved. But now that you're an adult, if something doesn't fit you, it's as useful as a lawn mower in the desert. Lucky for you, gift receipts exist and you can simply exchange your newly received mistake for something that doesn't fit you like a poncho. Unless you asked for a poncho. Then Feliz Navidad.
"Are you trying to piss off the most powerful man on earth?"
Santa doesn't ask for much as payment for gifts. A few cookies, a glass of milk, maybe a carrot for the reindeer if you're feeling extra generous. Leaving nothing for the big man is pretty much inviting him to leave coal in your stocking. Seven year old you is furious but you like grilling so coal would actually be a pretty nice present. You'd tell seven year old you that Santa Claus doesn't exist, but your seventh Christmas is the one where you sneak downstairs and find your dad putting together the drum set you asked Santa for and you don't want to rob yourself of that story.
"It's 6:45 a.m. There are presents downstairs. Why are you asleep!?!
A seven-year-old would find swimming the English Channel easier than sleeping on Christmas. It's a day when they get the toys they want because magic is real. The more you sleep the less time you'll have to play with your new toys. That's math. But for an adult, sleep is its own gift. Right now you're dreaming of skinny dipping in Aruba with a slew of attractive celebrities. When you wake up you'll be in your childhood bed mentally preparing yourself for a day with your family. Give that seven-year-old an Ambien and go back to sleep, where the real magic happens.