I was in bed this morning trying to think about how our kids were feeling. Or how they would be feeling in a few hours. I remembered back to my childhood and for the first time in a long time, I could remember in great detail my childhood room. The smell, the feel of the wallpaper, the crunch of the carpet. But mostly the excitement of Christmas morning. It was the presents, the family, the fun, the food. But mostly the expectation. The thought of Christmas morning. The idea of it was almost more fun the actual morning. Chris and I were driving the kids around looking at lights last night, and we said we just wanted one more week before Christmas. As that came out of my mouth, I was struck with the contrast in how kids just ache for Christmas to be here. They are pushing for Christmas to hurry while we adults are pushing back to enjoy the moments of expectation. Of course, for all our pushing, there is no changing the inexorable march of time. Christmas is here. Or at least in my kids world, it will be here in a couple of hours. I am up, with the Christmas tree lights on. Looking at the tree, hanging out with the memories of my childhood, but mostly expectant. Expectant for my kids to come crashing through the door as they make their memories.
Merry Christmas to all the kids and former kids out there.
Posts
