I don’t generally love Christmas as much as everyone else does. I hate the crowds, the commercialism, the consumerism, the debt, the attitudes, it all sends me to a very unhappy place. I do enjoy the Salvation Army bell ringers, the Angel Tree, Christmas dinner, wrapping the dogs in Christmas blankies but most of the time it feels like the things I dislike are far more numerous than the things I like.
And then there’s Scott, who insists on being my Christmas brat. I have successfully trained the girls to stay away from the tree and presents; now if only I could do the same with him. Ever since our first presents arrived from his mother, it’s been a daily uphill battle with him. Every day he wants to open one and every day I tell him no. Then I put his Christmas presents under the tree and got “If I guess what this is, can I open it?” Really? Really? I married a four year old? Really? I thought about letting him open one tonight, but his stellar grumpiness yesterday squashed any hope of that happening.
I’ve thought about staying home today but I do have some last minute errands to run. I’m holding very tightly to my Chrismas joy and plan to be nose deep in Luke chapter 2 by the end of the day.