This morning I was having some facial pain again. The Superwife got my Tegretol and I got medicated and left for work. When I got to work I realized my bottle of pills was still at home. What to do, what to do? When pain threatens the answer is obvious, call home and ask the Superwife to bring it out. So she brought it out at lunch.
Ms. Pikachu was out of school so she came along. While we were eating the Superwife observed that Trainboy is easy to wake up in the morning. He can’t wait to get ready to go to school. He loves riding the bus, he loves his classmates, and he loves his teacher. He loves school and it shows.
What could I say? What I said was, “And this is different from someone else we know?” The WearyWife said, “Oh yeah, somebody else fights getting up every morning.” From behind us came the exasperated cry, “It’s not my fault I’m nocturnal people!”
Maybe it’s not her fault. She probably gets it from my side. But you have to play the cards you’re dealt.
This is going to be a special Christmas. Trainboy is 6 ½ and hanging onto Santa. He still believes. It will surely be the last year that he does. Each passing year will bring more knowledge, more disillusions, and more wisdom. It’s kind of silly that as he hangs on I want to help him hold on tight. As a parent I want him to grow, but the innocence of childhood is so short I want him to have it just a little bit longer.
This will be the last Christmas to put out cookies and milk for Santa. The last time he’ll go to bed expecting Santa to bring him something wonderful. And wonder how he’ll get in without a chimney.
There’s no doubt that one of the joys of having children is getting to do it all over again. Through our children we can relive the excitement and joy of Christmas. Our hearts melt with their joyful expectation of a visit from Santa and are then rent with their disillusion. Our Christmas tree is a brightly lit beacon for a Santa making his last visit.
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