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Jim and Eliza (AKA the grandparents) are visiting this weekend. No sooner did they that we plunked the kids into their arms and took off for a Christmas party at Charlotte's Godmother's home -- a festive party laced with ornaments and cocktails, just what the doctor ordered.
Friday night we ventured to Nalls Produce in Springfield to buy a Christmas tree. A bigger adventure for Paul and I than Harry and Charlotte, but a good trial-run for next year. We are so excited about spending our first Christmas at home with the kids. Our home. Our tree. Our best-loved family traditions. And no plane travel for the first time in more than two decades. A lot to celebrate.
The tree, a towering tribute to spruce, is now decorated, and while I was sure Harry would pull down our efforts in minutes, he's been nothing but a little gentleman. I decided to steer clear of the fragile bulbs, and put kid-friendly decorations at the bottom where curious hands can roam. Yesterday he yanked on a few, even caught him with a stack of gifts in his lap...but who can blame him? I'm eager to see what this bleary Santa bought too. Christmas morning should prove a surprise for everyone.
2 comments:
Dear Leef -
Your First Flame:
O.K. So I'm a close-to-professional copy reader, and you're a former Wash. Post writer.
And for the third time since you started your blog, you've goofed on the objective case. Like today,
"A bigger adventure for Paul and I.."
I can deal with that, but you've said that part of the reason for the blog is to preserve a record for your kids to read in the future. So years from now, when they are adding up all the abuses they experienced during their childhood, do you want them to add: "Mom, a writer, didn't even know when to use "me" instead of "I"?
Your constant reader,
=Bill=
I'll make you a deal. when I start getting more than four hours of sleep a night you can take issue with any sloppiness. Or you can hire me a copy editor, a night nanny and chip in for a pedicure.
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