Christmas

Our Christmas miracle this year was that the kids slept in until almost 8am which nevvvvvverrrrrr happens.  That, and Andrew and I got to bed before midnight after elfing for quite a while putting together Nelle's kitchen.  Who knew those things take so long to put together?!  

When we started hearing the kids stirring on Christmas morning, Andrew popped up and started my coffee, citing he only did it because that's what happens on the coffee commercials on Christmas morning...the scent would beckon us out of bed.  He also started a fire that would last us all day, 

while I drug myself out of bed and opened the blinds.

The most beautiful sunbeam was just starting to peak through the bare trees in our backyard into our bedroom, and it stopped me in my tracks.  This gorgeous start to my morning I most certainly don't notice on most days when I'm already behind when my feet hit our chilly wood floors and start making to-do lists for the day in my head on top of the to-do lists already there from the night before.

Christmas is for noticing.

How coordinating Christmas church outfits are probably the cutest thing everrrrrr.

How Henry started to believe this year.  He couldn't get over that "Santa ate my cookies!" we had left out the night before.  

How onesie jammies make them both seem small again.

How Henry knows our copy of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas is special and handled it with extra care and admiration.  

His face when he saw what Santa had left...and hers when she eyed what she wanted to destroy first.

 

How we're in the phase of wanting to play with everything the second the first shred of paper is ripped off the box.

 

How Nelle is really afraid of the Christmas tree and is just starting to warm up to it, now that it's time to take it down.

How your house instantly seems five million times smaller when boxes and ribbons and toys 

start taking over every surface and one swoop through a room doesn't even put a dent in it.

It was a wonderful, wonderful Christmas.  

Not quite ready to come out of our toy/cookie-induced haze, but soon.