Skip to main content

Christmas Artist

My three year old son is a Christmas artist.  His favourite part of the season so far is the decorating part. He petitioned to have the tree up early in the month and took charge of decorating it,packing ornaments on to the tree in a concentrated clump of shiny glory!  Even though I would say most, if not all, of our decorations have already been put up, he continues to implore us to keep decorating. Maybe there are more things in the basement that we missed?  We need to make more decorations.  Perhaps, that ribbon can go on the tree?

The other day, as he sat in the swing on the edge of the woods on a cold clear and extremely quiet mid-December afternoon, he noted that the swing was making a tick-tocking sound, just like a clock.  We were quiet for a while in the stillness, the swing tick-tocked. After a while, he added: "It's nice here." He gestured over to a nearby home and said, "you know,that house is really nice, the decorating is really nice." He went on to ruminate on design: "You know, the wood part is really hard to do, but the decorating part is easy for me."

He declared his concern for our Christmas tree. He predicted that Santa will say: "This is an angry mess!  There is no star on the tree!!!"  He explained how important a star would be to our Christmas tree. Upon returning home, another frenzy of making Christmas decorations ensued.  Finally, he noted with satisfaction, as we admired our work from the couch: "Oh Mama!! I can see the Christmas tree in your eyes."  Well done. Hopefully, we have appeased Santa in the decorating department, still working on the angry mess though.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?