Christmas Confusion and Christmas Clarity

Forgive me for talking about Christmas in January, but time really got away from me. Remember that I said that Dylan wanted milk and a donkey for Christmas? Well, I might have been confused. I mean, I was confused. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm still confused. Talking to a toddler does that to you.

After Jim informed me that he thought Dylan was saying "cookie", we had this conversation...


I think he was saying "milk and cookies", but I'm not sure if that's what he wanted, or if that's what he wanted to give Santa?!

Last year at Christmas time, Dylan had no idea what was going on. He didn't know about Santa, and he wasn't interested in unwrapping presents. He was much more interested in showing off his new skill - walking - and seeing how many things he could now reach and pull down on top of himself.

This year, he took it all in. He soaked it up like a very absorbent sponge. He learned about Santa, and Rudolph, and the presents they would be bringing - if he was good. He listened, wide eyed, as he heard the story of Mary riding the donkey and giving birth to Jesus in the stable. He learned to sing "Jingle Bells", and "Rudolph". He "helped" his daddy put up the big tree, and he counted the snowmen that I put up on the mantle. He chose ornaments to put on his little tree, and he reminded me to turn it on. He marveled at the Christmas train display that we took him to, and I thought we would have to drag him out kicking and screaming. He opened presents with much pizazz, even ones that didn't belong to him (mine, Jim's, the ones on the wall at Kings, whatever). He made cards (with his daddy's help) for me, and his grandparents, saying "Merry Christmas". He opened a gift that was bigger than him...




and a very special present from Santa...



He got art supplies, puzzles, a doctor kit, and loads of new books, and as he opened his gifts, my obsessive compulsive kid put each one in a neat, orderly line.

Yes, he got all of us into the Christmas spirit this year. But my favorite part of all was during Christmas dinner, when my sweet, smart boy reminded us all of the true meaning of Christmas. In the midst of all the chomping and chatter, he started to sing, "Habby Berfday to you. Habby Berfday to you. Habby Berfday, Baby Jesus, Habby Berfday to you".