It's 11:30 on Christmas eve, and I have gifts to wrap and ice cream to eat, but Thea seems to be oblivious to this, and is up digging through the piles of post-cousin Christmas wrapping paper and discussing it:
"My da wan a Ry-Ry, den 'mine! mine!' ah, oh a Ry-Ry, mine? Nooo... oh, da ma duck, up and na um da da bah ba...."
Then the fireplace, crackling as it reaches it's end:
"Fire, ya hot, no touch. Ba, mama da na. Mommy. Da burn ya. Burn ya. Da hot. Ya. ooh."
She'll sleep till 12 tomorrow. But... this time. Oh, this time. Two years ago at Christmas, I held her as she curled into me, nursing away by the Christmas tree. Last year, she was one and wore herself ragged keeping up with her sister. She had so few words then. This year, this year... how she talks! But this is the last year for mumbled hard-to-translate thoughts. Next year, she'll be 3.
It's crazy to think about life a Christmas at a time.
From us, to you and yours - may this season of joy and peace bring you renewed passion for making everyday an adventure and finding the extraordinary in the little things. Merry Christmas.