I walked into the kitchen and saw my older son in front of the advent calendar making the gingerbread girl and gingerbread boy kiss. He was even making the kissy sound. It was quite a change from the usual noises that come out of his mouth; they sound a lot more life-threatening. When I asked what he was doing, he turned around fast enough to leave his face behind, and blushed. I knew he was a softy under all his battles and weapons.
At one point in the day, I had forgotten to take a present with us to the Grandparent's house and I had to drive back home to get it. I was alone for the first time in two days. Cranking up the Christmas music, I sang along until "Little Drummer Boy" came on. I turned the radio off in disgust. Does anyone actually like that song?
In the quiet of the car, I immediately thought of the morning we'd had of unwrapping presents and watching the kids hug each other in thanks for the gifts they bought each other. I admit it, I cried. I was just so grateful for the Season, for our bounty. I mean, even though I joke about our apartment being tiny, I really can't complain. We have carpet. And central heating. And beds. And food. And kissing gingerbread people. And family. And regular income. And Truth. And knowledge. And so, so much more.
Life is very good.
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