It's two days after Christmas and all the decorations have been taken down. Not because we were in a hurry to move on to Valentine's Day or anything, but because we were all tired of staring at a tree that looked like it had been ravaged by piranhas. (Well, most of us were. Matthew cried like he was broken-hearted when he woke up from his nap to discover the tree was packed in a box. "Tree!" he wailed over and over. So sad). Now the living room has that lovely clutter-free feeling that accompanies getting rid of the fake pine needles and random ornaments that have been residing in every corner. Ahhhhhh.
It sort of makes me feel like I need to decorate. The only problem is that I'm not one of those people who can throw two bamboo shoots in an urn and make it look classy. When I do it it seems less intentional and more "Oops, bamboo is growing out of that ugly vase again." Perhaps I should graduate to wheat stalks.
Christmas itself was lovely and was a calm end to a week that included the almost-two-year-olds boycotting their usual substantial naps and Matthew conducting experiments with a q-tip that ended up in his sister having a punctured ear drum. Or at least that's what the evidence suggested, considering Leah interrupted my peaceful shower with hysterical screaming and blood pouring out of her ear and Matthew was following closely behind her wielding a cotton swab. The doctor didn't seem fully convinced that Matthew was the culprit, but considering the fact that I found him today with a crayon sticking out of each of his ears, his defense is shaky at best.
Our Christmas Eve included a Christmas Story where the wise men brought the baby Jesus "Gold, metal, and plastic," according to Michael. Frankly, I think plastic would have been awfully useful back then. I'm sure Mary, especially, would have been thrilled.
Christmas morning was relaxed and peaceful. The kids played with their Santa loot for quite some time before anyone remembered there were also presents under the tree. Leah, decked out in every necklace Santa had brought her, wandered around for a full hour holding a stuffed mouse, a plastic phone, and a bag of chips, happy as could be.
Michael and David declared the holiday "The Best Christmas Ever". Michael has been enthralled by his big box of legos, Leah and Matthew have delighted in chasing their little Zhu Zhu pets around, and breakfasts in the days since have consisted of foods that are most often considered dessert items. That, combined with the fact that David took a few days off work, means we're pretty content around here. Even if Santa is considering shipping the light saber back to the North Pole until Michael is 21.
Are 21-year-olds mature enough to handle light sabers?