Christmas Eve

Jack's almost 3 now, so Christmas was much different than a year ago. First, he was really into it, all about Santa and Frosty and Rudolph and so forth. He's a little unclear on the details -- to him, they're all good friends and stuff, and he knows the Abominable Snow Monster is tied up in there somehow, though he's not too sure about him. But he's seen the specials, read the books, and talked a lot about them. (Plus they're all on his Christmas list -- "I want a Santa toy and a Rudolph toy and...." I hate to say it but I think he even HAD an Abominable Snow Monster toy, or would have, had I not given it away to Goodwill recently, figuring at the time he either wouldn't be into it or would be afraid of it.)

So he's into Christmas now, and the other way things were different is that he can do so much more. We thought taking him to church, which I knew would make both his Mommy and his Mommy's Mommy happy, was reasonable, because we could tell him to keep his voice quiet and he'd understand, as opposed to last year. And he could open his own presents, and write a letter to Santa, and all that stuff. And so we did.

The letter was funny. "I love you Santa. I have a baby sister. I want a Santa toy. And a reindeer and Frosty toy. And (at this point we prodded him by mentioning things we knew he'd like, and he, reminded of them, agreed) ....... And a candy cane. So I can eat." (Jack, incidentally, did not like the one candy cane he had. Too tart, I think.)

On Christmas Eve, we went to church. Initially, Jack wanted no part of it. But I told him his cousins would be there, and that we'd see Christmas lights afterward, so he came around. We all got dressed up, me in a shirt with a collar and Jack in his red Christmas sweater, and Kate in a dress with leggings that looked like a Santa suit -- just beautiful. We headed off to church with Kate, as she often does in the car, wailing somewhat. Jack soothed her by saying "SHHHHH!!!!! Stop, Kate!" and singing "Baby Kate, Baby Kate..."

We sat in the back and hoped he wouldn't be too loud or disruptive. And miraculously, he wasn't. (If he had been, he'd have been drowned out by the kids behind us anyway.) Kate was slightly more disruptive, but easily soothed by her Mommy as only a Mommy can, and Jack primarily spent the time saying things like "Why aren't they singing now?" and "They're not singing anymore," and so forth. He liked the singing. And the pictures in the books Emily brought from the back, featuring Noah loading a bunch of animals onto his ark. ("Why is he doing that?""So they won't get wet.") He had a chance to go up for the Children's Communion, or whatever it was called, but was afraid. Instead we all went up for Communion, Jack in my arms and Kate in Emily's, all of us looking beautiful of course and Kate drunkenly sleeping on Emily's shoulder. Jack hugged my shoulder as he was blessed, and we edged past the people offering wine. At the end, they sang Hark the Herald Angels Sing, which we called Jack's attention to; he recognized it as the Charlie Brown song.

We drove home -- very low on gas, I admit I spent some time thinking about running out of gas at 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve -- by way of various neighborhood side streets, admiring the lights and decorations. This was cut short for three reasons. One was that we were low on gas. Two was that it was already an hour or two past Jack's bedtime. And three was that Kate woke up and wailed louder and more violently than we'd ever heard her before; so much that she became hoarse and it was just a scratchy, rattling gurgle of woe in her throat. I'm saying, "Look, Jack, it's Rudolph!" over the din while Emily is saying, "Er, can we drive a little faster?"

We got home, and left a note for Santa Claus. As with the list, Jack didn't quite get it. OK, Jack, 'Dear Santa:' Now what do you want to say? Jack: "Cookies for you Santa. I love you Santa." And what else? Jack: "I love you again." And? "Hi Rudolph! And Frosty too. And Bondable Snow Monster." Then we drew pictures on the note, Jack drawing a series of broad scribbles ("That's a picture of Santa's cookie") and me drawing, at Jack's request, Santa, Rudolph, and the Abominable Snow Monster. And then we each had a cookie, went up and read some stories, and I put Jack to sleep.

He was upset that he wasn't going to get to see Santa. I explained how Santa came when boys and girls go to sleep. This didn't really soothe him. There was some crying. I explained how when he woke up, Santa would have left presents for him, and eaten the cookies we left, and replied to his note. (And so he did.)

I don't know if that made Jack feel better, but he slept until morning. Which I'll write about soon.