T-Minus

... six days and counting.

Today's festive activities aimed at forming memories for our children that will someday provide them with an endearing nostalgia when they look back on their childhood days at home included caroling at the hospital and driving around town to look at Christmas lights.

Caroling went beautifully. The ill and injured are a grateful lot, generally speaking, and were happy someone cared to sing. We strolled the halls singing about Rudolph and jingling bells and ended with candy canes in the lobby, following a mandatory stop at the hand sanitizer.

So in the Christmas spirit were we, that we decided to stop by Parkside Circle for a bit. To view the show in peace, without the distraction of Ellie's cell phone or Caroline climbing the walls of the car, click HERE.

We did not have that luxury.

But determined not to let Ellie's obsession over constant communication with the outside world bring us down, I directed us to a house sure to please even the Grinchiest in our car (who happened to be driving), a Rock Chalk show-stopper you can find HERE.

We chose to drive on after their show started with what would have been our third round of Carol of the Bells for the night. Bummer too, for the Rock Chalk song is one of my favorites, year-round.

And home we drove, into our driveway, just as John Denver and his muppets ended their Christmas Together.

Next stop to Christmas joy: gingerbread house construction.

Precious

Three of our four had their Christmas program at school tonight. (#1 had her orchestra/choir concert last week, providing the kind of entertainment only junior high schoolers can provide.)

The show started with the preschoolers. We have not personally owned or operated a preschooler in four years and had forgotten how teeny tiny they are. They have completely functional and moving parts, as evidenced by their ability to carry out the choreography to the Santa poem, and audio capabilities similar to the sound of baby angels.

And they love to be in the spotlight. They love nothing more than being in front of grownups, singing about Christmas and showing off their new dresses or tie.

(Except the token crier, of course, who is always the first kid in line for cookies to cope with the PTSD of public performance.)

Our neighbor, Mark, was sitting on the aisle, and I was next to him, both of us marveling at how deliciously precious they were. As the kids filed back down the aisle after their time in the light, I asked Mark to grab one for me to take home and put on my mantle. 

"They're just so cute!" I whispered, watching their teeny legs cart their teeny bodies down the long center aisle, unaffected by the cooing of their fans.

"I know," Mark said with wonder in his eyes. "And they look so real!"