Scenes from an American Christmas for you: My two-year-old nephew sits amid a pile of wrapping paper, tissue, and empty boxes, strewn about the living room like so many Christmas carcasses, refusing to open any more gifts. Here comes my sister, video camera in hand, imploring, pleading, begging him to reconsider the mound of garishly bowed and bedecked packages under the tree, to which this pint-sized wise man replied: “No more presents, mommy.” He had simply had it with opening gifts. I have to say I saw his point.