Merry Christmas!

Although it doesn't make me proud, I'm going to tell the true story of this Christmas morning, so that we will remember what having kids is really like (it's not all as cute as the photos I post!), and so that those of you who read this will know that my life isn't all lollipops and twinkle lights.  This Christmas morning started out with the lighting of the Christmas candle, the reading of the Christmas story, a poem and a prayer.  It was lovely, and I really imagined that Christmas morning would be topped off with a jolly opening of presents, a family meal around the table, and a movie from somebody's stocking.  Well, as soon as the stockings were opened there arose shouts of, "But I wanted that!" and "I don't like this candy, I want a different candy!"  And I am sad to say, those shouts were from my very own son.  As you can imagine, gift opening was put on hold, a very angry four-year-old was sent to his room, and everyone heaved a big sigh.  This idea of a "perfect" Christmas morning is, apparently, not attainable until our children learn a very important lesson about gratefulness, thankfulness, graciousness, and humility.

So we very literally pushed the pause button on gifts, I attended to the pancakes, and Derek went downstairs and had a chat with Luke.  Seamus was just wandering around in his new hat, eating a caramel, totally oblivious to the challenges that accompany the rather arduous task of maturing gracefully.  Eventually Luke decided he was ready to be gracious, maybe if he didn't like the caramels he could still say thank-you and then give them to someone who appreciated them (don't worry, he discovered he liked them; we are in a phase where anything "new" or "different" is automatically labeled "bad"), he even began to understand that the What of the gift is not as important as the Why...I hope.

And so Luke decided he wanted to hand out the presents to his family, Seamus decided that collecting the paper and putting it in a box was more fun than opening presents, and eventually (much later than planned, and after much hungry crying from Seamus) we ate pancakes.  Seamus ate five.

I cannot know that my son learned exactly what I hoped to teach him.  But all we can do is try to explain, and live like we believe it.  Giving is wonderful, receiving is delightful, and giving and receiving graciously is truly a skill worth the effort of learning (and teaching). 

One of the lessons I have been struggling with lately is that Luke is his own person, very separate from me.  For the longest time he was part of me, then for a while he was an adorable accessory, now he is most certainly his own person - developing thoughts and ideas with no input from me.  I would have thought this would be obvious, but after so many years of, "Say buh-bye! Say Gramma! Go potty?" it's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this little person will decide if he needs to go potty on his own.  He will call out what he's thinking during the church service when the moderator asks what she thought was a rhetorical question.  He will wear nothing but gitch around the house all day and ask for a knife to cut his pancakes at breakfast.  He will be himself, and I can only hope now that we will love each other enough that he will continue to want to be like me...and I can set a good example.

Merry Christmas!  May your Christmas enlighten your family relationships, as ours is doing, and promises to continue to do.