We really had the most peaceful and joyful Christmas this year. It was cozy. Our holiday candle smelled so good. We enjoyed the most perfectly cooked prime rib with Grandma Suzy’s Smashed Potatoes and a festive pomegranate salad. The pine needles on our tree only shot off like porcupine quills if you made direct eye contact. I’m joking, that was a trick metaphor– you know porcupines don’t shoot their quills.
On Christmas morning Jacob wakes Nate up at eight-something. It’s highly possible he would have slept until nine. This year Jake was enthralled with the idea of building his own PC, which is only marginally more expensive than one of those top shelf Star Wars Lego kits. Nate was adamant he didn’t want anything. Right up until maybe three days before Christmas. Then he wanted a computer mouse with a hundred buttons and rainbow lights. Despite not wanting anything, he seemed to float on air when he opened a new iPad. Having been the recipient of hand-me-down electronics that can only support one game no matter how many things you delete, it seemed the humane gift choice for a fourth grade pandemic prince.
Both boys had a magical Christmas– not even one little smidge of disappointment. James seemed pretty happy with his new barn kitchen and a weekend in Yosemite. I scored big with a pie server and a dutch oven I’ve been wanting for maybe the sum total of my children’s lifespans.
Now I must admit, I was having a tough time getting into the Christmas spirit this pandemic. I didn’t feel like offline shopping or online shopping or wrapping presents. Maybe because it was so hot and sunny. Or because I’m sick of looking at things in my house. I don’t know. But I bucked-up and made it happen over the course of several weekends hiding in the barn with a lifetime’s collection of ribbons and a roll of wrapping paper. I find watching UK home improvement shows on Amazon Prime really increases elf efficiency.
On Christmas Eve night the boys are tucked in their beds and it’s time to haul the laundry hamper of presents across the yard for the big Christmas morning reveal. Obviously Santa brings his own presents later in the evening. Before I head outside in my flip flops I notice a folded letter next to the plate for Santa that has a few days-old gluten free brownie and some peppermint bark with the glass of milk. For the record, this chocolate chip cookie project was Dad’s idea and was then “bestowed upon me” as he sped out the driveway to man the shop for holiday browsers. It’s a letter from Jacob, and it speaks for itself. One minute detail in his favor is that he did wake up on Christmas morning, possibly with a change of heart, and tried to hide the letter in the recycling. And of course I fished it out.
The night of Christmas Eve, after reading this letter I may have felt tired and teary as I hefted the laundry basket across the cold, dark yard in my pajamas, brimming with hours of thoughtfully curated and lovingly wrapped delights. The mommy in me felt unappreciated and hurt.
But Santa was smiling.
Dear, Santa
we thought that you would be tired of cookies so we gave you a brownie. I hope that you don’t mind (but to be totally honest the reason that we are giving you a Brownie is that my mom was to lazy to make some cookies).
From, Jacob
<“Failed Christmas tree” (turned into a picture of a present)>