As we cuddle, just before they go to sleep, I whisper into my daughters’ ears: “I love you, no matter what.” In my sentimental moments, I hope that in the future this message will echo in their minds at times when they are in trouble, no matter what trials they face.
I assume God does the same with all of us.
In the aftermath of the holiday, it becomes clear. It is not the retailers who are behind the commercialization of Christmas. It is the trash bag manufacturers.
I am a difficult person for whom do buy presents, mostly because I am a difficult person in general. I return all clothing that is bought for me on principle. My parents know this well. So, this year, they made me a small shirt and tie out of five one dollar bills (complete with small rock tie clip, and buttons attached at the bottom). This proves three things.
1. My parents have too much time on their hands.
2. My parents are really out of touch with the inflation of clothing prices since the mid 1930s.
3. My mom and dad love me! (Love you too mom and dad!)
For a few weeks now, Kathleen has been asking for a puppy for Christmas. In response, I have repeatedly explained to her the many reasons why she really does not want a puppy. Inevitably, the conversation ends with me telling her that, no matter how much she wants a puppy, we are not getting one. She then usually moves to expressing her exasperation with me in the way that only a six year old can.
Today, Kathleen told me she was going to go write something, and she sat down at her little table and pulled out her crayon. A minute later, she came over to her mother and I with a paper reading: “Dad i wat a pupee. Jesus (Dad I want a puppy. Jesus)”
Her mother and I looked at each other, wondering when our daughter had started using Jesus’ name as an expression of frustration. Thankfully, before we were able to respond, she told us that there was more on the back of the paper. We turned it over to find written: “is in r hrt (is in our heart).”
Cute kid, that one, and lucky she told us to keep reading.
Gingerbread is the hardtack of the holiday season.
One imaginary flying unicorn. Female. Apparently answers to “Stripe.” Light blue coat with green/blue mane. I don’t have a picture.
My daughter (Kathleen) spent much of the morning looking alternately out of the front and back windows, only to announce despairingly that she doesn’t see the unicorn.
I find her apparently very real disappointment disconcerting given that it is, after all, an imaginary flying unicorn.
The evidence I have gathered thus far suggest that there is a direct correlation between (A) having children, and (B) needing to sweep the kitchen because there is cereal on the floor.
Shallow or deep
It’s there while you sleep
Work hard, and you’ll run out of it
Beauty takes it away
Though held, it won’t stay
One suffers if brought up short of it
Though drawn, invisible
Though caught, unimprisonable
Birth to death, you’ll never be free of it