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On the night before Christmas…

Christmas Eve is magical. Especially with young children.

We Skyped with Grandma and the rest of Christian’s family in North Carolina. The girls opened their lovely presents, thanked everyone gratefully, and went along their merry way playing with their new goodies.

{Um, actually the kids all went berzerk, crying about opening presents while Dad tried to get his mom’s Skype to work and Mom fratically threw goldfish crackers their way to suppress their whining. They tore through the presents, asked for more, then ran off to sling around their newest toys, narrowly missing each other’s heads in the process while Mom rubs her eyes in distress and fatigue.}

We had an idyllic family dinner of freshly steamed tamales, spicy Spanish rice, and black beans, in which everyone ate sufficiently and Christmas carols played softly in the background.

{Actually, Mom made turkey sandwiches and grapes. She had no idea how much they actually ate, because she checked out to lay on the couch and read Mockingjay, leaving their poor, defenseless father to tend to them. Plus she had filled up on kettle corn that afternoon.}

We took baths, got cozied up in our warmest jammies, and ran excitedly to the kitchen to put out cookies and milk for Santa.

{Yeah. It was damn near impossible to keep six little hands out of the cookies and milk, even though the big girls DID get the idea. Poor Zoe. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t have a cookie.}

Time for Christmas stories! We snuggled up around Mom and Dad, reading The Night Before Christmas and You Are My Miracle. Everyone gave copious hugs, kisses, snuggles, and “Merry Christmases” before settling down in bed, visions of sugar plus dancing in their heads. Mom and Dad

{More like Mom gave threats of going straight to bed if they didn’t sit down for the damn story, while Dad removed a hysterical and cookie crazed Zoe from the room. Halfway through The Night Before Christmas, Claire made to leave the room to “go do something.” She feigned looking for her McQueen car, but Mom knew she had cookies on the brain. More threats ensued. Mom hurriedly finished up the book, ignoring one “Whass he doing?” after another, and plopped them in bed with a “Santa won’t come unless you’re asleep” warning. It worked.}

Mom and Dad ate a little leftover ham for dinner, drank some hot cocoa and apple cider, built some bikes, folded some laundry, wrapped some presents, stuffed some stockings, and settled down to watch Elf and bask in the remaining few hours of pre Christmas cheer.

{Okay, so all that did actually happen. Throw in a rather intense discussion about how Santa actually makes his mark on a household and some last minute panicking that the stockings were a little lean. Then Mom got elated because a package containing stickers and candy has arrived from a certain wonderful friend, and she quickly decided this friend is now Santa.}

Mom and Dad giggle while eating Santa’s cookies, careful to leave some crumbs behind, and craft a letter from the big guy to his three biggest fans.

{We totally got to eat cookies.}

Santa cookies Christmas

 

Thank you all for your love, support, comments, shares, and friendship. I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

 

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Leigh Ann Torres
Writer, artist, wife, cook, maid, bookkeeper, mom to twins plus one...all around genie in a bottle, except you only get one wish, and it has to be reasonable.
8 Comments
  1. Great recap. :)

    Merry Christmas!

  2. What a fun Christmas Eve!! Merry Christmas!

  3. Mockingjay rules. Merry Christmas!!

  4. I’m so glad it arrived!
    Merry Christmas my friend.
    Love you all.

  5. Yup! That sounds about right! I decided the day was a success when I only said once “Remember, Santa is watching!”

  6. Christmas Eve can totally kill a parent. I loved this post, the imagined beauty set against the actually mayhem. Perfect.

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