Whew!
I survived Christmas, but barely.
These last few years I’ve been less and less organized. The result is last-minute shopping on Christmas Eve in search of one last doo-dad for stockings and boxes that realistically won’t be mailed until after the new year.
And each year I pledge to change. Stockpile little things early. Wrap gifts as I get them. Help the kids pick gifts when they aren’t arguing because one looked at the other.
(Seriously. What is it with siblings and looking at each other being a criminal offense?!)
Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get in the Christmas spirit.
I can’t say what finally triggered it, but driving down I-64 with Super G serenading me with Christmas songs probably worked in my favor.
She and JM3, in contrast, are always thrilled to pieces.
They pout if we don’t put up the tree on schedule (Thanksgiving weekend) or stop by the house with the millions of tacky lights.
They still leave cookies for Santa and smile with bugged eyes when the treats are gone Christmas Day. It’s magic that.
Pure and simple.
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