Once upon a time, a long time ago (okay, only seven or so years), we the oldest four children of the Landon house in America would wake up before the sun, jump out of bed, plug in the Christmas tree, dance around it yelling in delight, and run to the bedroom to wake up our parents. They would, of course, promptly send us back to bed until seven, where we would wait in eager anticipation for the one and a half hour left.
Like I said, that was seven or so years ago-before I learned to love sleep and a warm bed with a cat.
This year, it was the four oldest of us who were stubbornly refusing to get out of bed until it was light out-despite the next five in line all bouncing about and knocking on doors, begging us to get up. In fact, the only thing that reconciled us to getting up was the news that daddy, too, was up.That and the knowledge that once upon a time, we too had plagued people who would much rather have stayed in bed.
I think that one of the best parts of Christmas this year was watching the face of the 11 month old as he tried to figure out WHAT on earth to do with the wrapping paper. For someone who likes wreaking havoc, he sure was puzzled with his presents!
A Merry Christmas to all! (There are twelve days of Christmas, you know!) And a very Happy New Year!
And a very merry un-birthday!
And whatever else I forgot to add!
Rapunzel
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