Friday, October 17, 2008

What a disappointment!

I woke up this morning to the sound of LW crying. I called him into my room and asked him what was wrong.

"I thought today was Christmas!"

I have no idea why he thought today was Christmas, but I can empathize with the disappointment. No tree. No presents. No Christmas fudge. I'd cry too.

It did drive home how differently we experience Christmas as a child and an adult. My first thought was, how could it be Christmas? I'm entirely too well rested. I wasn't up late last night wrapping the last few presents and stuffing the stockings. I'm not wired about whether the kids will like their presents or whether we have enough presents or too many presents. I'm not worn out from baking treats for teachers and attending Christmas concerts and school events. How could it be Christmas?

(Speaking of holidays, Happy Birthday, K!)

4 comments:

WendyandGabe said...

That's just too sweet!

PixelFish said...

Awwww...poor kid.

Being an older sibling, my suspicions naturally leap to the casual things the other kids say. It's possible LW asked about Halloween preparations, and somebody said, "It's like Christmas, but with candy," and he fastened on to the operating word "Christmas."

On the other hand, I was a pretty evil older sibling at times, and I'm pretty certain I told my sisters at least once that Christmas had to be moved because of government holiday regulations. (I also told them I was the president of the Pastrami Lovers of America and that our yearly convention was at Disneyland this year, but the registration deadline had already cut off. When my sister says, "Can we register for next year?" I say, "Sure, I hope you like Michigan, because that's next year's convention."

God. I was horrible.

Anonymous said...

Oh, poor LW! Thanks for the birthday wishes. I spent the day at Disneyland, so missed your call. Too bad I couldn't have taken LW with me--not quite Christmas, but maybe it would have distracted him!

Anonymous said...

That's cute. I wonder if he'd had a dream. . .

OR Mom