So we had a dee-lightful Christmas.
A fun present scavenger hunt that included all of us in our pj's heading down the street as Jake used a GPS to locate a gift hidden in the mailbox. A rare but toasty use of the fireplace. My eating everything in the house that wasn't nailed down. The four of us playing a board game without Molly freaking out and upsetting the board. Bonus: I won!
By Sunday I reflected on other small victories:
1. We survived the Christmas Eve Nativity play that Tom and I forced our budding thespians to take part in. They felt they were "above" being in a production (Hello! It's a worship service!) with such "young" children.
After it was over, Joseph, AKA Jake, handed me his balled-up costume stating, "I'm glad the worst mistake of my life is over with..." May it be so, young one. May it be so.
2. I managed to serve Communion at the 10:30 pm service without a) falling asleep b) spilling on anyone.
3. We made it to church again on the 26th, were even early, and my hair wasn't wet! I felt pretty full of myself knowing that I'd managed to get the family to multiple church services in the span of just 2 days, and from the looks of our not-very-packed sanctuary, I know that was no small feat.
My smugness dissipated as soon as we left the building and I felt a blast of frigid air hit my nether-regions. Yeah, my "new-to-me" suede skirt was completely unzipped. By the time we reached the crosswalk, it had slid almost completely off.
And I thought all of those friendly greetings were just standard Christmas cheer.