Christmas Eve

Christmas this year was a little different for us. Usually, we head up to Richmond for Christmas Eve and head back to Norfolk on Christmas morning to spend time with my family. We have always counted ourselves quite lucky that we could manage to see both sides of the family on Christmas day. This year, for obvious reasons, there is no holiday traveling for us. We really missed being there but trust that they all understand.

On Christmas Eve, we were actually able to go to the Christmas pageant at Christ and St. Luke's. While I myself prefer the midnight service, we are obviously better suited to the family friendly service for quite a few years. Such affairs are usually worth their weight in gold because of what the kids blurt out. This year, my darling child contributed three gems.

1. As the first notes of a Christmas hymn began, Jack looked at us and said (quite loudly, naturally), "SING FROSTY MOMMY, SING FROSTY."

2. At one point, Jack was dutifully coloring on the program which featured drawings from some of the children. Jack looked up and said (again loudly) "BABY JESUS! BABY JESUS!" I was grateful he didn't blurt out something inappropriate or sacrilegious. This by the way reminds me of a couple of weeks ago when Jack was playing with his trains and abruptly walked over to the creche, took the baby Jesus in the manger, put it in the middle of his train tracks and said "mommy, baby Jesus meet trains." It was quite clear that he considered the trains to be the more important of the figures.

3. After communion we walked down the side aisle to say hi to Jack's best friend Charlie. When they saw each other, they started shouting "Chi-o, Wi-o" which is their crazy battle cry that they shout whenever they see each other. That one definitely got a few looks.

Never a dull moment...

After church, we came back here for Christmas Eve cocktails and dinner. Jack and Uncle Peter were playing with the ball in the living room when Peter accidentally hit the Christmas tree. A couple of minutes later Jack deliberately threw the ball into the tree and, without blinking, looked at us and said "Uncle Peter's fault." First of all, I have no idea where he learned the word "fault" much less the context in which to use it. Second, isn't 2 a little young to start throwing your playmate under the bus?


After dinner, we read The Night Before Christmas, put out our milk and cookies for Santa...

... and put a very tired but very excited little boy to bed dreaming of hearing reindeers on the roof while his parents happily trucked off to sleep and dreamed of the same thing.

I can only hope that the same magic and anticipation that filled our house filled yours as well...