"Is there school today?"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'm not getting up!"
"Zane, I thought you loved school!"
"I do! BUT NOT AROUND CHRISTMAS-TIME!"
Normally, I don't count down the days until Christmas. This year, I can tell you, that as of this posting, there are exactly, 18 looooooooong days until the DAY OF DAYS.
Until that time, we will experience laughter, weeping, deep meaningful questions, gnashing of teeth, cheers, pure grief, good deeds, lots of back-chat, snuggles, and screaming.
I'm certain a door will be slammed.
It started on Sunday - the day we got our tree. The tree was spotted by the children within 2 minutes into our wagon ride around the farm. Once the tree was up, Christmas had officially begun. The tree is our ushering in of the holiday. And, once again,
"It's coming! It's really coming! Christmas!!!!!!!!!!!! I. LOVE. CHRISTMAS!"
This was Zane for the remainder of the day.
"Can you believe it? IT'S COMINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!"
As we decorated, the kids marveled at some of the home-made ornaments they had gifted us with over the years. We sang the little Thomas the Train diddy as one of Harper's favorite ornaments from her Thomas stage was removed from the box. We all "ahhh'd" as our Linus ornament, complete with green blanket (a la Zane) was proudly hung by our own Linus.
"I forgot how much fun this is," was Harper's reaction - and she was right.
We finished decorating and celebrated with our family tradition of turning off all the lights in the house, except for the tree, and running outside with no coats to view it from the street.
Every year we seem to get the "best tree yet", and this year is no exception.
The snowman collection is proudly displayed, the tree is lit and standing tall, the advent boxes are filled with treats. We are reading Letters From Father Christmas this year to set the mood.
But emotions are thin. Fragile. The ice is cracking.
Someone, mainly Zane, looks as if he won't make it to Christmas Day. The mere correction of a "b" and a "d" on a homework assignment (those two can be so confusing) turned him into an angry elf. And it was only Monday. A slight hot-chocolate spill, causes his spirit to boil over.
He won't eat. Unless it's from Buddy's diet. The slightest inconvenience ("Where are my shoes!") sends him into a tearful tantrum. The expectation is just too much for him to take. The last two days in a row have had him wailing his trademark "This is the worst ________" statement.
Currently it is, "This is the WORST. CHRISTMAS. EVER!"
Translation: it's the worst because it's not here yet.
And then, last night, curled up in our reading chair, we read 6 Christmas stories together. Wrapped in his blanket (in which I'm glad we can both fit), we read about Santa and Rudolph, when . . .
"Mom, let's read some of the real Christmas stories. The TRUE ones. With Jesus."
Back to DEFCON 5.
If you come to visit, be prepared to do some hill work, for it's up and down in here. Touch and go until the 25th.
But perhaps, you have some Manic Christmas in you as well. If that's the case, you'll fit right in.