Those who know me well know that I get a little crazy at Christmas.
Maybe "crazy" is an understatement.
I'm the type of person who plays Christmas music all year long, much to the chagrin of my dear hubby. The instant the first decoration hits the shelves at Wal-Mart, I'm there. I plot and plan and scheme for months leading up to the Big Day, and most likely drive everyone crazy who's unfortunate enough to be in a 50-mile radius of me.
This year will be different.
Why? Because I have a 3-year-old who is (if it's even possible) more excited about Christmas than I am. His enthusiasm has been great - we can now go into Wal-Mart without buying a toy, as long as we browse through the Christmas section. When Jeff dropped him off at the sitter's (who had recently decorated for the holidays), Bebo exclaimed "Look! The house has Christmas on it!"
Who would have thought picking out a Christmas tree would be a world-class event? It was just a $30 skinny pre-lit tree, but he was practically bouncing out of the cart with excitement. As more people are decorating their homes, the rides across town are becoming quite entertaining. He'll burst out with excited commentaries about the lights, inflatable Santas, and plastic reindeer he sees. Every minute is a new joy for him.
Braeden's wonder of the season is bringing back all the wonderful memories of my childhood Christmases. I walk down Memory Lane every year, but somehow this year is different. His joy is allowing me to re-live my past experiences, rather than just remember them. I can feel the same excitement for the overdone yard displays. I can smell the cookies and candy baking (and sometimes burning) in the kitchen. I can see Nanny and Pa unloading presents from behind the backseat of their old blue pickup. I can hear Linus reciting the Christmas story for the hundredth time on TV. All those memories meld together in my mind in a big happy blur. It's why I love Christmas so much.
And it's why I want Braeden to have his own set of special memories. So I'll do my best to make a little Christmas magic this year - the first year he will really begin to grasp the concept. And maybe in another twenty or thirty years, he'll being watching his children clap their hands in excitement, reliving - like I am now - the Christmases of his own childhood.