Happy Christmas Eve

Earlier today, my husband presented me with a surprise–a bottle of Glenlivet.  Those who know me, know that I have a soft spot for single malt scotch.  And after savoring a bottle of 30 year old Macallan, I’m hard to impress.  But Glenlivet holds a special place in my heart, as the first scotch whiskey I drank–and I drank it for months before becoming brave enough to order Talisker, Oban, and the other Glens.

It is 10:08 p.m., Christmas Eve, as I write this post.  I could bore a reader to tears by describing our day.  Suffice it to say, after shopping this morning, baking this afternoon, cooking this evening, and cleaning tonight, I’m ready for a break.  And I’m about to have one.  My feet will be up.  I will be sitting on our couch.  And I will be enjoying Glenlivet, as I watch my husband put together the first of many Christmas gifts for [S].

[S]’s grandparents generously sent a child-sized table and chairs for Christmas.  A perfect gift for a growing toddler who is focused on being as independent as can be.  She’ll have her own place to sit, draw, read and play with friends, be they real, stuffed, or imaginary.  [S]’s other grandparents sent gifts, one of which requires batteries.  As I wrapped the gift, I turned to Russell to ask if we had three AAA batteries on hand.  We do.

These small steps in parenting–supervising the construction of a gift and ensuring we have batteries on hand Christmas morning–touch my heart. They are moments that remind me how fortunate we are.  And I’m reminded that such moments are gifts themselves.

Tomorrow morning, I will watch our daughter walk into the living room and see the table and chairs.  She will explore the wrapped gifts under the tree that have provided her hours of enjoyment and busyness.  She will speak with grandparents, aunts, and cousins.  She will eat turkey, cranberry and sweet potatoes.  And she will fall asleep exhausted by the newness of experience Christmas day.

If only every day could be like Christmas.

Cheers.

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