The morning started later than these usually do, because yesterday ended so late. I got in from work at about 1:15, without having wrapped anything, and Becky is going to use all of the night on Christmas Eve no matter what. She always works until there is no time left to do so, never completely satisfied with all she gets done, but splendidly and impressively successful every time. This morning proved no different. At 4:30, she told me we should probably go to sleep, so I did; later, she told me she had finally stopped at 5:00, when she heard the first footsteps upstairs.
Simon just now said, “I can’t believe it’s Christmastime. Christmas is the best day because it’s Jesus’s birthday.” He said it out of the blue, with no prompting. So, from how I see things, Becky and I must be doing something right.
We’re on a small break from opening presents because Becky doesn’t like to see it end. She might not say as much, but that’s the reason behind the distractions. And that’s totally fine. My wife loves her sons to no end, and Christmastime is the one period of the year where she can really stretch it out, go a little crazy, and show that love.
And now, all of the presents have been opened and the boxes and paper have all been disposed of.
Skeptics would say that buying things for kids isn’t a way of showing love, but I couldn’t disagree more. So much of what our kids got today falls into the category of tools to help them be better at being themselves. Both of them got wrestling gear, and Finn got Ultimate (Frisbee) and Disk Golf stuff. Simon got a basketball. Each of them got a Kindle.
There is even scholastic merit to all the Pokemon cards and books they got. The myriad diverse names of the Pokemon help them with reading, pronunciation, and tackling multi-syllable words. The collecting of the cards helps them with grouping and categorization. The strengths and types of the characters help them with memorization, and trading them with friends shows them the foundation of co-existing in a market with others and the merits of evaluation. (They might not realize that as such, but it’s exactly what it is; take it from a guy who lived it.)
Becky knows where the composite of who they want to be and who we hope they become exists, and she aims for that, hence the tortoise and the hamster in the mix of presents. Yes, we do already have one tortoise–and a turtle–and we already do have one hamster, but what’s one more when you’re dealing with things that have shells, and fur?
And it was a great morning, which is turning in a lazy afternoon. The kids are downstairs with their Kindles–in the right context, that word is synonymous with “babysitter.” Oh, I know, bad parent. Still, what’s the use of giving them something if you can’t use it to keep them out of your hair from time to time? Ain’t no shame in our game about the amount of quality time we spend with our boys. I’m about to get into some Mousetrap here in a bit, so don’t tell me I won’t go to the wall for somebody. You ever played Mousetrap? If you have, I’ll bet you’ve only played it once, because if you ever went back to play it a second time about 40 percent of those little pieces would have been lost. (Genius marketing strategy there, btw: put a whole bunch of small and easy to misplace–the target audience is six, remember–pieces in there, so you’ll have to just go out and buy the game again if you decide you want to play again.
Anywho, it’s good times. To this point this has been our best Christmas ever. We are so blessed, and I really hope that’s what the boys take away from it.
And you, my friend, all those same blessings are there for you, and I hope you recognize and enjoy them.
Merry Christmas, beauties.