Merry Christmas Eve

Steven and I took the kids to the Island of Lights tonight. They love watching the different displays and being the first ones to "notice" something else. From there we drove through KokoPlatz. There's a street there that should probably be charging at least what the Island of Lights charges for admission.

Our house has one string of lights. Just one. I keep thinking that we should jazz it up some, because the kids would love it, but there is so little time or extra money for that sort of thing these days. One day.

It's Christmas Eve. The boys sprinkled reindeer food on the lawn and hung a special key just for Santa on the front door. Jordan found a perfect spot in the living room to leave three cookies and a glass of milk. An apple was added to that, because it's healthy (go Jordan!), and after careful consideration a second apple was added for Santa to share with either a reindeer or an elf. I guess it's up to him.

Except for three presents we're done wrapping. I never really feel like I'm completely ready for stuff. I still have a handful of Christmas cards to drop in the mail and the kitchen counter to clean off (it's stuff, not dirty dishes), as well as under the dining room table to vacuum. I wanted everything to be perfect for Christmas. By the end of the evening I started to realize that there's no way that I feel like doing much else tonight. It could be a little depressing, this never being ready, except that the kids moved the presents from the Elliot-proof table to underneath the tree, and all talked a mile a minute and at the same time about Santa and the reindeer and how many sleeps until all the Christmases at the different family houses and where to put the cookies, and how many apples we needed, and I thought This is what it's about. Who cares of there are hardened noodles underneath the kitchen table. Whatever. 

Because you should have seen their happy little faces. It must be hard to lay down and go to bed knowing that in the morning it's Christmas. Yet, they have to go to bed or Santa can't come. I think it must have been a mother that started Santa in the first place. How else does one get four little kids to stay in their beds and actually try to sleep on the eve of such excitement?

I hope everyone has a fantastically Merry Christmas!


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