We're still waiting for the celebration of food that is Thanksgiving, and I've pulled out our books about gratitude and Pilgrims and harvests. I've put out a handful of fall decorations, and this year's
Thankful Jar is our current dinner table centerpiece, slowly filling with scraps of paper that mention, among other things,
Ghostie and the
Tomten.
But let's keep it real. Christmas music is already playing nonstop on the radio, and Marley's already spent at least one morning dressed as a Christmas fairy while prancing and twirling around the kitchen. We've already watched
Elf and
Rudolph, and I hear that Owen's been spellbound in front of
The Grinch at least three times a day for the past week. A few days ago, I steered Marley and Rudy in our red Target carriage all slowly through the steadily filling aisles of red and green decorations and displays, oohing and ahhing and feeling all cozy and excited about the way that Christmas that can fill your home and heart with magic, especially when your children are little and ready to bubble over with Christmas enthusiasm whenever you say the word. I am a big Thanksgiving fan, and I can't wait for the
literal feast, the stuffing and the mashed potatoes and the steaming, sweet and salty gravy. And the drinks and the desserts. But Thanksgiving is really just the opening act. It means that Christmas is next!
Also, I love that it is now officially okay to mention Santa's watchful eyes in practiced tones of disapproval and helpful warning when your children are whining. You'd better not pout? How about you'd better not explode into a tantrum that turns into blind-with-rage shoving and hitting that turns into a complete, gasping, sobbing, meltdown? Thanks for helping to keep my twinkling little fairies in line, Santa. Merry Christmas!
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