We just got done cooking Thanksgiving dinner and by "we" I mean NOT me. It makes sense that December is here, only 6 days after turkey overload. Time doesn't stop moving at the speed of light just because I specifically demanded that it should. Usually, I would be super excited about Christmas shopping (or any shopping really) but this year I'm finding it hard to find any shopping inspiration.
When I was a kid I don't recall ever writing a letter to Santa. It wasn't necessary he just knew what I wanted. Every. single. year. Christmas morning was always amazing. There were MOUNTAINS of gifts. We received things we didn't even know we wanted but were delighted to have. The magic that was Santa was always alive and well in our house. No matter what the circumstances of our reality, Santa never disappointed. I remember showing my mom what Santa had brought after opening each carefully wrapped present. She was always as excited as we were. Her excitement was surely just a reflection of our wonder but she never let on that she knew exactly what was in each of those perfectly gift wrapped presents. We always had stocking that were perfectly filled to the brim. The facination of Christmas morning probably would have been the same with a smaller number of gifts but the sheer, overwhelming number of unopened treasures made for some sparkly memories.
Of course I now know that Santa's BFF was layaway and year long shopping. I don't think I've done a very good job of duplicating the wonder of those December 25th mornings for my kids but not for a lack of trying. Childhood should be filled with amazements that only a parent can create. Mine was!