Last night I asked my husband to take the kids out to eat so that I could pull the gifts out, compare piles, and start wrapping. Ended up that my oldest (because she was in sweatpants, and won't be seen out in public in sweatpants) stayed home with me to help with the massive task of converting our Christmas Card list to email format. After receiving several texts from the diners assuring her that everyone in the restaurant was wearing sweats (my husband actually asked the man at the table next to theirs if he could take a picture of his sweats...), we enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of watching a crime show side by side while wrapping and swearing at the computer.
What came of the evening, besides a realization of how much I still had to do, was a report back from my spouse on our youngest's soul-bearing over dinner. This kiddo (who we thought was just intent on getting to the unwrapping part of Christmas) shared his worry that our family was coming apart. First triggered by his oldest sister's engagement last week, and learning that she planned to change her name, his sense that things were changing made him very sad.
Bemoaning the fact that I'm always on the computer, his dad's always at work, his brother doesn't want to hang out with us, and his other sibs are rarely home...he reminded his fellow diners that Christmas is about being together. And then his dad came home and shared this story with me. And now I'm sharing it with you, before I prepare to bake cookies, sing carols, and decorate the tree with my family. That sounds pretty good.
Out of the mouths of babes...
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