Our Christmas is here! We’ll be spending time with Mark’s family and then turn around and spend Christmas with my family. Within five days, I will have hugged, laughed, ate/drank too much, gossiped, reminisced, and said “Merry Christmas” to every single family member I love. It’s a rare Christmas when our families get to celebrate with everyone. Skype is great, but it’s an awful necessity. And this year, we don’t need the hassle!
Yesterday, something changed in the air. The winds started to pick up and the news was calling for snow. When the boys looked out on our tiny dusting this morning, they both said, “Beautiful.” Coop who claims that he out-grew Santa last year, has been waffling with the idea. There’s a little magic in his tone. Becks has sent Santa his list via a text and is counting on a Spiderman heavy toy-haul. Our house is swirling with the giddiness that exist in a house with young children. And as a non-Christmas fan, I’ve happily gotten sucked into it. Please, promise me you’ll given into the magic just for a few days. Promise me that you’ll sing “Jingle Bells” loud and off-key while you’re driving to Aunt Martha’s house. Promise you’ll “ice-skate” in the kitchen. Promise me that you’ll spike the egg nog and kiss someone under the mistletoe. Promise me you’ll tear open your gifts with the gusto of a four-year-old. Promise me you’ll play a board game with adults, that you’ll high-five when you win, and scream “Suck it, Losers!” Promise me that you’ll enjoy every piece of fudge that crosses your lips. Promise me that you’ll fall under the spell of Christmas.