On Christmas eve, we decided to join in a little religious worship for nostalgia’s sake. Since we’re not completely insane, we left midnight mass to the toddler-less grown-ups and went to the 4 p.m. mass. It turned out to be quite nice.
The church was jam packed with kids. Lots of kids. Kids wiggling. Kids laughing. Kids whining. And adults, woefully outnumbered, desperately trying to wrangle said kids. Our boys, while not entirely angelic, were well behaved.
I’m happy to report that, despite my aversion to organized religion, the genuine conviviality of this event made the outing (and standing for an hour +) totally worthwhile.
Cut to Christmas morning: It was mostly a morning like any other. We got up when we heard the boys horsing around in their cribs at 8(ish) a.m., fed them and had our coffee. Then we opened our gifts.
Next year, I suspect it’ll be a bit more elaborate. The boys will have a vague understanding of Santa and the notion of opening (and hopefully giving) gifts.
In the meantime, here’s a glimpse of our Christmas morning. It would have been nice to have you all in our midst.
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