The magic of Christmas is alive and well in our home. Our oldest loves reading the advent calendar daily to her brother and our youngest enjoys squeezing the empty stockings each morning to monitor a change in weight. I am trying to relish in every moment. Even the weird ones.
Like when Cyrus woke up in hysterics one night because there
was a Christmas fish swimming in his humidifier. Cyrus claims he was red, and
Caroline is convinced the room has smelled like fish ever since. The magic of
Christmas.
Last week the elementary school hosted a Holiday Shop, where
students had the opportunity to bring a small amount of money to school and
shop for loved ones.
I worked in Indianapolis that day, so Cody managed the
morning routine. This worked greatly in the childrens’ favor because I planned
to send them each with a five-dollar bill.
Caroline went to school with $20 (!!). She came home with
three gifts for people she loved and $12.50 in change.
Cyrus went to school with $10 (!!), feeling like a king. He came home with one gift for someone else, a toy jet for himself and $.25 in change.
He went on to tell us that his buddy bought the same toy jet for his father (what a thoughtful little boy) and Cyrus let him know that if his dad didn't want the jet, he could just bring it back to school and Cyrus would add it to his fleet. The magic of Christmas.
We made our annual trip to Kansas to share the holiday with
my in-laws. The stomach bug and strep were both running rampant through the
elementary school, and Cyrus recently fell victim. In an effort to curb
anything that may came come Caroline’s way, I made a preparedness kit including
Tylenol, ibuprofen, two trash bags, washcloth, towel, wipes and spare clothes.
Still, just before leaving the house I had this nagging feeling that I was
forgetting something.
We made it three hours into the trip before I had my own Home
Alone moment. You know the one, where Kevin’s mother sits straight up on the
airplane and screams, “KEVIN!!” after realizing the one thing she left at home
was her son.
Well, I didn’t do that. But it was at a Love’s truckstop in central Missouri that I screamed “AMOXICILLIN!!” In a quiet home in the refrigerator sat half a bottle that Cyrus still needed to ingest. But don’t you worry, I remembered my five pairs of earrings and two lipsticks. 2023 Mom of the Year!
Cyrus makes a game of observing semis, guessing what they’re
hauling (95-percent of the time his guess is candy or toys) and then turning around
to check out the grill to determine the manufacturer. I assumed by the time we
reached the Greenfield exit his back would be sore from the break-neck action,
but that wasn’t the case.
His personal favorite is “Fra-gee-lee” trucks, which he is
certain are hauling leg lamps such as in the movie, “A Christmas Story”. It
will be a big day when he does learn to read and realizes “Fragile” is actually
pronounced Freightliner. The magic of Christmas.
Caroline hasn’t mentioned a Barbie Dream House this year,
but she hasn’t given up on the campaign for a horse. Cyrus is relentless about
a new bulldozer with greater horsepower. Been a tough argument explaining that
the one he currently has is run solely on the force he uses with his own two hands.
We’re less than a week out and need to finish and practice our
Christmas reading for church, go see the lights, bake cookies, go to the
grocery and finally wrap gifts I remember buying but cannot find.
The magic of Christmas. May we never forget that the real
magic happens when we forget everything I wrote above, and focus on what’s in
the manger.
