Jack Rabbit is beyond excited for Christmas. His body is practically humming. His belief in all the magic of Christmas is at an exquisite peak– each morning he’s hurried to find where Bitte the Elf has landed in the house. At each reprimand he’s asked anxiously, “Mommy? Do you think I’m still on the Nice List?” Today we have, on our list of things to do, a batch of Santa Snickerdoodles to make. (Apparently they’re his favorite cookies. It came in by text.)
I’m pretty awful when it comes to presents. I like presents. I like the agonizing anticipation of which brightly wrapped package under the tree might be mine. But, honestly, the gift this year has been in watching Jack’s joy and wonder at each new yuletide discovery.
Tonight there is church. And lighting a candle on my Dad’s grave. A drive around town to see some of the Christmas lights. Tomorrow Jack will find a small mountain of presents under our tree with his name on them. Robby will be a happy boy, too. We’ll have visits to our parents’ houses and a wealth of good food. My mother will have the Christmas china out. My mother-in-law will have sectioned oranges and serve our drinks in the jingle bell glasses.
And, at the end of that long day there will be a very, very tired little boy. And two tired parents, as well– making Boxing Day all the better for it’s luxurious anticipated Pajamma Day.
I hope that there is Christmas where you are and that it is what you want it to be.
