On Dasher. On Dancer,...

Harry is safely tucked in bed, visions of sugar plums (or cheese and crackers) dancing in his wee head. The night's finest amusement was making Harry pose with Charlotte in his lap. He seemed both intrigued and honored. The best part, he didn't drop her.

Tomorrow morning he will wake to a train table, already set up with his choo-choos. Not sure who will be more excited. Harry, or mom and dad, who will no longer have to fold their 40-year-old bodies onto the floor to play with their son and his trains.

Merry Christmas all!