Are you ready for it, girls?  Or are you just bracing yourself to get ready?  Either way, Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat (remember that song?  Love it.)  We have twelve days to Christmas and dangit if I’m not a little excited.  After spending our last Christmas moving, everything about this Christmas feels like a luxury; we have dishes in the cupboards, clothes in the closets, and couches to sit on.  In fact, finally feeling settled in our home has made me very merry this year, and I’ve already done most of my shopping, made a ton of cookies, and listened to about eighty hours of Christmas music in my kitchen (Christmas Cello by Steven Sharp Nelson is my new fave.  So pretty.)  I’ve also already gained a solid three-to-five pounds, which I always try to get done early along with the shopping.  (One more thing I can check off my list.)

For the first time maybe ever, I don’t feel stressed this year.  Either I’m getting better at putting on Christmas or I just don’t care anymore if it’s not perfect (like it ever was.  ha.)  This is the best part about getting older:  you care about everything a little bit less and enjoy everything a little bit more.  It’s so nice.

So in that spirit of non-stress I’ve decided to honor the Twelve Days of Christmas by posting a fun little anecdote about Christmas each day.  It requires no glue, glitter, or cutting, so I think I can do it.  (The second best thing about getting older is that you accept your limitations.  I do not do crafts.  Never have.  Never will.  Sorry, oh Crafts.)  But here’s a little something that put a smile on my face:

Last Saturday morning I was in the shower when Ethan walked into the bathroom, waiting for me to finish.  As he stood on the other side of the steamy glass door I said, “Ethan, I’m so excited to see Santa today.”  He gasped and almost shouted through the shower door, “You believe in Santa, Mom??  So do I!”  He said this in the same incredulous way you would say to someone, “You have eleven fingers?  So do I!”
He was astonished that he’d found another person who still believed in Santa Claus.  So cute, and a little bittersweet.  I know most six-year olds are probably too savvy for the biz about SC, but I’ve held Ethan at bay thus far, and will do so as long as I can.  (What else are youngest children for?)  In fact, come to think of it, I’ve never actually ‘fessed up with the girls, either.  They just pretend they don’t know, and I pretend I don’t know that they’re only pretending they don’t know.  It’s a dumb little holiday dance we do every year, and I love it.

What’s the 411 on your kids and Santa Claus?  What funny things have they said about him this year?  Tell me.

Oh, and this is what I want for Christmas:
Imagine the blog posts that would flow from my keyboard wearing this dandy in 2012.
And peace signs?  So retro.  Awesome.

 

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