It is Christmas! I get to put up the decorations and tree. And the kids both like picking out ornaments. (I have them take turns picking ornaments before they start so there isn't a rush to throw on bulbs to make sure they aren't shortchanged by a faster sibling.)
And at the end, I lift up Lamb to place the star on top. Voila!
And the lying, of course. I relish the lying. Mister is too old to buy any of it, but Lamb believes. And I lie through my teeth. Lamb already excidedly told me that she hopes the reindeer aren't as messy this year.
Yes, I rabbit chew carrots to leave bits on the floor by the fireplace. Eating the cookies we bake and drinking the milk (or egg nog) we leave is definitely a better part for me. And perhaps the NORAD Santa site which really impressed Mister back in the day.
And presents! I don't need anything. Heck, I shocked my sister when I recently told her I still use a shirt she bought me in high school (and we won't discuss the 1984 (I think. It might be 1980) Olympics lip balm in my desk drawer at work). But I do enjoy getting presents for my children. I tend not to just buy stuff during the year, saving the present experience for birthdays and Christmas. I've been to stores, and packages have arrived, and more are to be delivered. And I'll be back at stores again--even on Christmas Eve when I shop whistling the same tunes that drove my batty when they played in stores the day after Halloween.
And Christmas doesn't even include the weekend's events like Mister's concert which we went to (he plays cello) or the birthday party Lamb went to at a play place.
The party room she was in was the Tiger Room. If you had to ask. And yes, I gave up trying to position her head a little bit lower for a better effect. She'd done a lot of running around the habitrail, at that point. And don't think I didn't tell her I noticed we took the long way through the maze so I could help her with one sliding device.
I do love my children dearly. I'm a lucky dad.
So stop your whining and complaining and enjoy the holiday. Any holiday. Wish me a happy or joyous or merry whatever-it-is you celebrate. I'll take it with the good intentions it is surely motivating you. But for those who still object to Christmas as a Christian holiday somehow oppressing others, I say Merry C.H.R.I.S.T.M.A.S. That's an acronym, so I can't be punished by pulling that wall between church and state down upon my fragile human body. I enjoy wishing cashiers a cheery Merry Christmas, with most looking about to make sure a manager hasn't observed them receiving the greeting that shall not be spoken.
The acronym, if you must know, is Collective Holiday Reflecting Individual Sentiments To Mark Another Season. I came up with that a decade ago at work to try and replace the monstrous non-denominational official parties we'd have. I still shudder over the YEG (Year End Gathering). The BYG when we had to delay it to January one year was just revolting. I was ready to just call it Festivus and give up. But under a challenge I came up with C.H.R.I.S.T.M.A.S. I was universally saluted for the sheer genius of it, but nobody ever dared use it. So my lonely crusade for C.H.R.I.S.T.M.A.S. staggers on, unappreciated an unadopted by the masses in government and corporate employment where suggesting Jesus might be involved is strictly verboten..
