Magic

M is 2 years old. Christmas, as a concept, is starting to sink into his absorbent little noggin. He loves to take evening drives to view the lights around town--and some of our neighbors really do it up swell. To him, all the lights are "pretty fireworks" punctuated by glittering snowmen, reindeer, and choo choo trains which he observes with delighted exclamations. Santa-sightings elicit exuberant shouts from the back seat. The snowfall is the stuff of fairy tales come to life. The Christmas tree, like our nativity scene, is a source of intoxicating joy (and mischief!), and serious objections arise if I switch the music from Christmas to anything else. "More Kissmass moosic, Mommy!" It's so thrilling to watch him enjoy the season with such awe and wonder, to hear him proclaim with utmost enthusiasm "Merry KISSmas!!!!" and practically explode with excitement at the very thought of a "pwesent!" or a special holiday sweet treat. Yet he has no expectations or demands. For him there is true magic and sweetness in everything, in simply enjoying. His fascination is contagious. I can hardly stand the anticipation of Christmas morning...he doesn't yet grasp that Christmas culminates on a specific day with surprises just for him. This year we'll wake at a normal hour, enjoy a grand breakfast, then tumble downstairs camera in tow to capture every expression of surprise and glee. This year, the magic will linger all day long. This year, I'm relishing my role in sprinkling the Christmas spirit--via stories, music, aromas, treats and little festive touches--over our little world these next weeks, in making traditions and memories that will linger with my little whippersnapper long after the childlike fascination has faded. Like his daddy, though, I hope he will always embrace what is magically childlike about this time of year.