Honestly, I really can’t believe that it’s almost Christmas Day. And I’m kind of sad about it.It may be a little bit silly to already be upset that something is ending, when it hasn’t even happened yet, but anybody who has been eagerly anticipating this specific morning for 364 days understands the inevitable letdown that accompanies the season.
Taking into consideration that there are only a number of hours left until “the letdown” I am setting out to enjoy every single minute of the remaining Christmas season. That means Christmas music. That means Christmas candy. That means Christmas rum. (Okay, there really is no such thing as Christmas rum, but I’m thinking of starting a new tradition.) That means embarrassing myself byperforming aspecial “O Holy Night” duet with Josh Groban for my family randomly throughout the day.
Sadly, it also means a few more days of waking up in the morningbefore Jack does so as to protect those special Christmas decorations he seems hell-bent on destroying. You see, along with this burgeoning Christmas spirit I’m enforcing, my patience is being tested on an almost minute-ly basis. This is one busy kid. It’s as ifhe’s been bitten by his own spirit bug and feelscompelled to try anything and everything he can while thegettin’s good.
For instance, I was recently woken up suddenly by the sound of a moving chair. I shot out of bed, because a moving chair in my household has all kinds of possibilities, and foundJack in the kitchen. Sitting on the kitchen counter. Eating a Santa candypop. Spraying sunscreen on the kitchen floor.And herewasthe reallyscary part. He looked at me as if he was doing the most natural thing in the world.He looked at me as ifby my interrupting him, I was the one out of line. We locked eyes and he calmly set the sunscreen down, pulled the finished candy stick out of his mouth with a smack, and hopped down from the counter.As he passed by me he reached out, grabbed my hand and said, “Good morning, Mommy.” I stood there, stock-still, while that memorable scent of summer wafted in the air around me.
Last weekI was folding laundry in my bedroom and realized that the house was suspiciously quiet. I began my routine Swat-style “checking of each room” and found him laying underneath the Christmas tree. When I asked him what he was doing he answered, “Fixin’ it.” I bent down and peered under the tree to see firsthand what he felt required some much neededmaintenance. He was attempting to hang all of the decorations on the bottom branch, underneath the tree. Perfect.
I also recently found him rearranging my nativity scene because he thought all of the animals would want to sit together. Naturally. And then I later found Mary and Baby Jesus sitting in the bathroom.Acting on a pretty strong assumption that Jer didn’t bring them in there I asked Jack to explain.
“Cause da baby had a messy mouth,” he answered, matter-of-factly.
Well, obviously, that makes sense. “So, Jack? Why did the baby have a messy mouth?” I asked.
“Cause Jesus ate some a my wunch.” Great. Let’s hope that baby Jesus doesn’t have a nut allergy.
Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it’s not such a horrible thing that Christmas is almost over. I mean, for every season there is a time, right? And by my calculations, I have spent my fairshare of time saving various nutcrackers and snowmen from a certain death.
Hmmm…only a few more days…