We celebrated Christmas on December 16th this year due to a variety of reasons. It was wonderful for many different reasons including no pressure for anyone to have to be celebrating with anyone else on that particular day. You know how it is—go here—go there—go everywhere—and have a hard time enjoying any of it. We’ve all been there.
So, this year, no pressure. Just a day, albeit early, to enjoy Christmas.
We did all the usual things—ate too much, bustled about, and then settled down to open the ridiculous number of presents. We start out rather organized with each one opening a gift at a time, and then descend into a kind of anarchy where there ensues a bit of pell-mell opening of gifts. Chaos. Lovely.
After all the presents were opened and the adult children with our grandchildren were heading home, I hear a small voice.
“Aren’t you going to open this present?”
“What, Little Baby?”
“Are you going to open this one?”
She pointed to the one lone remaining gift.
“Is this for me?”
Now, I had thought this gift just had candy that she had confiscated from a stash I had in the kitchen, so I didn’t think it was very important.
Boy, was I wrong.
Grandgirl #3 looked at me with her big brown eyes, and I could see that I had committed a grievous error.
I had overlooked her gift that she had made just for me.
This child had spent hours painstakingly sticking pins through sequins and beads making an Alabama ornament just for me.
And I had just left it sitting there.
When I opened it, tears sprang to my eyes. I’ve never received such a gift.
This child never ceases to amaze me. She will work hours on end on a project and then hand it to you like it took her two minutes to complete.
This one took the cake, and I almost missed it.
Please don’t miss the little important things coming your way this Christmas.