Is it possible for children to implode from anticipating Christmas?
Children with mouths covered with sugar cookie sprinkles and dirt from the yard,
wearing candy cane shirts and pants festooned with dancing snowmen,
eyes staring wistfully into nothingness, visions of sugar plums and creepy bearded cat burglars coming into their homes after hours?
I think they just might.
And I think I just might if I have to rewrap another gift, re-hang another ornament, sweep up another broken candy cane, re-tape another Christmas card on the kitchen door, and re-position my children in front of another holiday special so I can get some of this stuff done (picture mouths hanging, ears absorbing only the sounds emanating from the tube).
And as crazy as it sounds, I just love Christmas. Not the insanity, indiffernt parenting, or stuff, but the hot cocoa afterglow once the wrapping paper is cleared.
Merry Chaos, I mean Christmas to you all. (Pass the cigarettes).
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