Merry Merry

I knew it would be a good day when Ella raced down the hall in her footie pajamas. "Santa's been here!" we shouted, and I pointed to the plate where only cookie crumbs and broken carrot sticks remained. She had a dozen gifts under the tree, many of which were displayed for immediate shock value. She ignored them all and dove, belly-down, under the tree. After a few minutes of rustling and digging, Ella produced a tiny, one-inch box. It was wrapped with more tape than gift wrap. "For you, mommy. I picked it out all by myself." She was glowing with excitement as she presented it to me, centered in her open hand.

I unwrapped a gumball-machine ring with a gold heart and a tiny blue gemstone. She waited until I tried it on, giggling with excitement and relief at how much I loved it. I wore it all weekend and finally retired it to my jewelry box "for safe keeping" once I realized that my finger was turning green. A decade from now, when she's 14 and claims that I'm "so lame," I'll put it on again and remember the day that my gift was more important to her than santa's loot. Wow.

The next three days were filled with food, family, and fun:






Grandma Erma celebrated her 95th Christmas this year, and Carson's very first.
A happy holiday indeed!