due to an internet outage this post is a day late, and I assume a dollar short
Christmas Eve found me home alone with the boys. I was able to put Zane down at a reasonable hour, but I still had things to do and a very excited 3 year old nipping at my heel.
Atticus and I wrapped a few last minute gifts, hung the stockings and baked cookies. I couldn’t find our X-mas cookie cutters, assuming we have some, and was forced to go with the standard “star” shape. Atticus created his own cookie for Santa which consisted of numerous pancake-style circles being stacked upon the other, each smaller than the last. I asked him what it was and he replied, “A smushed snowman.” Fair enough.
We finally finished getting everything ready for the big morning and Atticus fell asleep on the living-room floor while I flipped back and forth between It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street and A Christmas Story. As I lay there watching Ralphie stumble blindly towards the inevitable ricochet and the proverbial “you’ll shoot your eye out” I found myself thinking, often aloud, that A Christmas Story is the freaking classic. Funny, funny stuff.
Eventually Tricia came home, and Santa was soon to follow. At some time in the wee hours we too were able to go to bed, confident that we had done all we could to ensure our children would have the happiest of Christmas mornings.
It was a blur of paper, batteries and toys tied to boxes with more restraints than a pitbull on a playground. It was fast and furious. It was a blast.
The day went on, Zane gave up early, Tricia went next and Atticus and I were once again left alone with the glow of the tree, a Barenaked Ladies holiday special and a plate full of star-shaped cookies. He fell asleep on my lap clutching the last crumb of Christmas.
I kissed his forehead as I tucked him in bed, whispered “Merry Christmas Baby” and tiptoed towards the computer and the bills that sat there waiting.