Time for a Story

Heya kiddos, it's your old pal, George the Conductor. Gather 'round, it's time for a story.
Now and again, every single year, millions of Earth babies are born. But only one of the years that there has been in all of history has had a baby born who, inside of him, has had all the powers of a higher deity. It is on this god-child's birthday that everyone, more or less, will gather around with their families and buy expensive things for people they love dearly.
Now, we in the Incipisphere celebrate Christmas too. Oh no, no, no, don't get me wrong, we love Christmas. But our Christmases are a little bit different. You see, our Christmastime festivities don't have a-a Frosty o-or a Rudolph, because we don't accept the Christmas apocrypha as canonical, and we don't own radios because of how poor we are. So we don't know what a Frank Sinatra or-or a Bing Crosby is.
But if you point your ears at the sky and listen, real, real careful, on Christmas morning, you might just hear us Skaians singing our Christmas Carol.