Where did Christmas go? I spent the past five (seven?) weeks so excited for it to get here: making Christmas cards, decorating the house, dragging my family out to buy the perfect tree, shopping, traveling to see family. And now it’s gone. Over. I cleaned up all the presents and boxes and paper in my mom’s basement after we got home this afternoon. The tree looks empty; it’s uneven branches are even more apparent. But, as I type, I’m sitting next to the tree, surrounded by my family and thinking that maybe I need to remember that Christmas isn’t just on 25 December…
Roberto had a big day on Christmas; he got to celebrate three different times! As soon as we got up, we went over to my mother-in-law’s house. Robbie got all the classic toys: the wooden bench with pegs to hammer, a Bozo punching bag, a sled, and a Sit ‘n Spin. I wasn’t sure what he would do when faced with a four-foot tall Bozo replica. Personally, I was a little disturbed. But, Robbie, undaunted, immediately tackled the clown to the ground and went back for more as soon as he popped up.
When we got back to my mom’s house, it was almost time for breakfast. However, Hilary and Hunter wanted to get Robbie ready for his big day. As soon as he got upstairs, I heard the screaming start. And continue. And get louder. And louder. It didn’t stop until my child was back downstairs and running into my arms. In a pimp suit. That’s right. Robbie was fully outfitted in a gray Little Kings suit, complete with a purple shirt, vest, and coordinating striped tie. I’m not entirely sure it was designed with a white boy from Boston in mind, but Robbie wore it as well as he could.
The present-opening extravaganza continued all day, only interrupted by a brief nap before driving to Cincinnati. There were presents to open, trash to throw away (how did I manage to get a child concerned with picking up after himself?), and food to eat. He played with his toys, focusing mostly on his new baby laptop, which I’m hoping will be a nice substitute for banging on mine. I almost burned the fire hose meant to go on the truck of Robbie’s new fire station. I’m still enjoying the irony of that.
Robbie doesn’t really understand the meaning of Christmas, but it was so fun to watch him see presents and have his eyes get big. They say Christmas is for children. But for my money, I think it’s for the parents who get to watch the children.