The Magic of Christmas

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.

 

Parent/Teacher Conferences

If there was ever any question about the differences between our first and second child - though in my experience there never has been - that question could be quickly answered in how they address school. Cyrus, now 5, started preschool in the elementary school building this fall, while Caroline began second grade.

Our daily after school conversation goes something like this:

“How was your day?” I ask as we take off jackets.

Caroline jumps in, “Great day! We started a thing about apples that goes along with our field trip, and you know I love apples. We did cheer the whole time during recess until our legs got tired but it was good because the teacher came over and told us we couldn’t stunt. So that was ok. I really wanted to stunt then I remembered I had a skirt on so we didn’t stunt at all.  I ate all of my lunch and drank most of my water. My water bottle opened in my backpack and it's like, really wet. We got new spelling words today. Do you see this bug bite on my leg? It itches and the whole time we were reading all I did was itch it. Ms. Emily told me she liked my black and gold sweater. Did that cow have her calf yet? When we were coming up the road on the bus, she looked like she was still pregnant. Unless I was looking at the wrong cow. They’re all black so they all look the same. Well, most of them. Briella let me sit with her on the bus. It was a great day!!!”

“Cyrus, buddy. How was your day?”

“Good.”

And with that, he walked into the other room to carpet farm.

All summer he tried to convince us that “farmers don’t go to preschool.” That kicked me into gear to tell the farmers we encounter: If Cyrus asks, you went to preschool. The majority of them were not willing to lie for my cause because learning to color inside the lines hadn’t advanced their farming career.

To our surprise, he has enjoyed preschool. It helps that they’ve done units on farm animals and equipment, so the curriculum is right in his wheelhouse. Still, every day when he gets home, he acts agitated that he had to attend because he still has so much farming to do. It doesn’t help that the school bus has been passing multiple combines and grain carts in the afternoon trips. Everyone always beats him to the field.

We have no idea how he acts at school, though we’ve received no negative reports, so our assumption has always been good. He has mentioned new names of children; we know he’s talking to and playing with someone. Hopefully, they are not invisible.

Earlier this week Cyrus overheard Caroline and I visiting about the approaching Parent/Teacher Conference.

“What is a Parent/Teacher Conference?” he asked while unloading beans at his carpet farm.

Big sister responded without hesitation, “It’s where Mom and Dad go to school and the teacher tells them how you act when they’re not around.” Oh, the dramatics.  

Cyrus froze. “I don’t think you should go, it doesn’t sound fun.” He reported upstairs.

He’s was curious about this “meeting” all week, asking questions about how long it lasts, who is in the room, if he can come. Cody and I began to get a bit nervous, wondering what we were going to walk into.

On Friday morning I went upstairs to wake him.

“Is this the day?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“What day?”

“Parent/Teacher Conference.”

“Yes, that is today.”

He slowly whispered as he watched the ceiling fan, “Today is going to be the worst day.”

I’m happy to report there were no alarming behaviors discussed, in fact they said Cyrus does well in school, though he has let the teacher know his aversion to coloring.

I guess some kids just can’t stay inside the lines.