“Grammy Jo, are we having some Christmas today?”
The three and a half-year-old who lives at our house first asked this question about a week after Halloween. None of the adults in the household fully understood what he was asking until the Sunday after Thanksgiving when he helped us set up the tree and decorate.
“Grammy! Papoo!” Tad exclaimed with delight. “We’re having some Christmas!”
Three Christmas decorations captivated him. The first was a giant Hallmark pop up card that folds out into a snowy scene of carolers outside a Victorian home. In order to preserve its fragile beauty, I moved the paper house to the top of the china hutch where Tad can see but not touch it.
The second was the nativity set consisting of only Joseph, Mary, and the Baby Jesus. Thankfully they are sturdily made and unbreakable, so Tad has full access to them. He moves them around the living room and kitchen throughout the day and returns them to the kitchen desk before bedtime each night.
The third captivating decoration was the Christmas tree. When we turned on its lights and Christmas music, Tad crawled into an armchair with his bowl of popcorn and gazed at the tree for almost forty-five minutes–the longest our active grandson has sat still since, well, since ever.
The next morning, he stood in front of the Christmas tree and told his dad he didn’t want to go Auntie Rachel’s. Odd because he usually can’t wait to go to her house for day care.
“Are you worried there won’t be any Christmas when you get home later?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said with little boy solemnity.
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