Three is the magical age. For the first time, my three-year-old can anticipate Christmas.
He announces “Chwissmiss decorations!” every time we drive by our neighbors’ festive houses. He has a little tree with lights in his bedroom, and our nighttime ritual is to sit in the dark and say all the colors of the lights. He knows that “Santa is coming,” and he understands that this means PRESENTS. The true meaning of Christmas still eludes him, but for his parents, the true meaning of Christmas has finally arrived.
My four-month-old will not be aware of Christmas this year, but he will enjoy the warmth of his grandmother’s arms while she is here visiting, and he will no doubt enjoy watching his big brother tear open all their presents. He doesn’t know that this is his first Christmas, but his parents do, and they will never forget it.
Children undoubtedly put the Christmas spirit into their parents unlike anything else can. At least, I don’t think that I have ever been this spirited at Christmas. Sure, I have always liked Christmas. I am blessed that I have never been down and out during the holiday season, and I’ve always had some family or friends around to spend it with. But now that I have children, a veil has been taken off the holiday that I didn’t know was there. I am truly reliving childhood through my sons.
Unfortunately, I know there are people who are not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I know people who have been laid off of their jobs and are still searching, and a friend of my husband had to say goodbye to her husband this month after he suffered horribly from a brain tumor for a year. She will have to raise her twin, two-year-old girls by herself.
I just don’t have any words to follow up on that. It’s too horrible to imagine, yet I often (in my bleak daydreams) think that these things could easily happen to me. Especially now that I have children, I feel a desperate, imaginary hand clinging to what I have, and I pray that we will be able to raise our children without any ill fortune or tragic events. I do not take what I have for granted. At least I try not to.
So I will wake up each morning this December, and I will take my son downstairs to turn on our Christmas tree lights. I will have him help me bake some goodies for our friends, and I will take him shopping and have him help me wrap the presents. We will read children’s books about Christmas, and I will tell him he has to buy his baby brother a gift. I will also ask him what Daddy got me for Christmas, and don’t you know Daddy will be mad about that because my son is innocent (he doesn’t know about the tricks or tragedies of this world), and he will tell me the answer. I will laugh, feeling only slightly guilty, but incredibly full of the Christmas spirit.
Shelli Bond Pabis is a Winder resident and columnist for the Barrow Journal. You can reach her at shelli@mamaofletters.com
