Nothing says "Christmas" like a multi-family Christmas-party-turned-impromptu-pizza-dinner during a good old-fashioned blizzard (how we spent the day yesterday), a super-sweet holiday message from one's spouse (and partner in this stressful, tiring, but joyous journey called parenting), and my four-year-old having the following thoughtful conversation with her baby sister this morning in the bathroom:
Julia: Genevieve, do you want ME to help you brush your teeth?
Julia: I'll help you brush your teeth. Should I help you wash your face too?
Julia: Mama is busy. I'll do your teeth and your face and I'll EVEN brush your hair! I want Mama to have a BREAK!
(And they actually did it, too.)
Merry Christmas, everyone. We have company visiting tomorrow and then we leave early Tuesday for a six-hour, 300-mile road trip to northern Minnesota for the holidays (Lord help us, our children do not sleep in the car). Up north, we'll be sledding, building snowmen, opening presents, and listening to little-girl voices sing "Silent Night" and "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" at a little country church amidst the snowy plains, with candles and wreaths and joy to the world. I hope you'll be doing much the same. See you soon.