I love this time of year, LOVE IT, I tell you. I’d like to say that everyone I know feels this way, so it should come as no surprise that I feel this way, but actually a friend of mine from college swore he did not like Christmastime; that the season conspired against him to bring all sorts of bad luck and ironic twists into his otherwise simple and calm life. He gleefully railed against the consumerism and I don’t know how strongly he felt about the Christmas story. He laughed (in an ironic tone) about the two being so strongly bound together (ironically bound, yes?). And although I suspect it was just a case of age induced counter-culturalism, he did indeed claim to not like the holidays.
These days, however, he has a little girl, and I would be surprised if his feelings about Christmas haven’t changed a little bit with her around. Besides, by the time one is over thirty, the whole counter-culture thing can seem a little, well, youthful and naive. There are bigger fish to fry than simply an entire culture one has erroneously perceived.
We are decorating our Christmas Tree today. We will listen and sing along to carols being sung, if not by a choir, then by Harry Connick, Jr. and Amy Grant. And maybe even Elvis. We will get drunk on Sprite and get sick eating red and green peanut M&Ms. Then we will vacuum up the fallen pine needles, set the finishing touches and send the children off to bed. And while wanting to spend a quiet evening in front of the tree, Ben and I will also collapse into a deep but restless sleep ourselves, waiting for one of the children to wake us up in the middle of the night, at least once. Ah yes. The Season is here. Deck the Halls, everyone! Tra, la, la, la, la!