Just after Thanksgiving, every year without fail, I start a little holiday tradition of my own. Anything good that happens, I deem to be a “Christmas Miracle”. I just crack myself up with this one for the whole month of December. It never gets old. Right Mark?
So last weekend was a weekend of miracles. In an attempt to be the kind of parents who expose their children to more than IKEA and Target, we braved a one of those community events that brings people out in droves. It was a snow day hosted by the city. Typically, this is the kind of event (and crowd) that I try to avoid like the plague. As we pulled up, traffic was stopped for miles, and I was ready to turn the car around and just call it a day when Mark spotted a parking spot right on the street by the park. A Cristmas miracle.
Jafta has been asking when it would snow since he saw the first Christmas lights go up. It’s been hard to explain to a 3-year-old that despite what countless Charlie Brown cartoons, Christmas songs, cards, and books may depict, it is not going to snow for Christmas. He asks expectantly every day if it will snow today, and every day I explain that we live in California and give him my best recollection of weather patterns and climate change and equatorial proximity. He is not persuaded. So today we get to see snow, in the middle of a park in Newport Beach.
So about that snow. Turns out last Saturday was a blazer. So the snow they brought in has quickly metled and turned into packed down ice. When Jafta saw it, no lie, he called it a Christmas miracle. But it quickly lost it’s appeal when all the kids tried to play on a frozen tundra that was nothing like the fluffy, moldable stuff they’ve seen on tv. I have to say, my husband really saved the day by grabbing a shovel and worked up a sweat by chipping the giant block of ice into small portions of slushie that the kids could at least pick up and examine. Parents were thanking him but India wanted nothing to do with it. Of course, the kids were dressed for a photo op in bundled up coats and mittens that were just a cruel joke in the midst of the 90 degree heat.
After our excursion, the kids and I took a little nap, and I woke up to find Mark setting up the Christmas tree. Now, those of you who know us well can testify that this, is truly, A Christmas Miracle. In our 12 years of marriage Mark has never intiated, and only begrudingly particpated, in decorating for Christmas. I don’t know what exactly changed, but I think the kids have de-Scrooge him. We trimmed the tree while singing O Holy Night in our opera voices. Mark thought he was channeling Josh Groban. I thought it was a little more Kermit the Frog. But it was festive. Very festive.
By the way, does Jafta’s shirt look a little girly, and a little small? Yeah, that’s because it is. It’s India’s new shirt, and it has a lighting bolt on it. They both decided it was a “Lightning McQueen” shirt, and Jafta was talking about it with seething envy all day. She spilled some lunch on it, and not five minutes after changing India into a new shirt, Jafta walked out of her room wearing it with a big grin on his face. Oh well. It isn’t Christmas without a little cross-dressing, right?