So a couple of days ago, I asked Eddie if he knew whose birthday we celebrated on Christmas. He answered, logically enough, "Santa." I told him that in fact it is baby Jesus whose birth we celebrate. "Oh," came the reply.
The next day, hoping to repeat this cute little misunderstanding for Mama Steph, I asked Eddie again whose birth we celebrate on Christmas. His answer stunned me. "Baby Cheese-its."
Now, this makes absolutely no sense whatsover because, as a family, we definitely prefer Goldfish crackers. Ba-dum-bum.
Both boys now answer that it's Baby Jesus' birthday and their pronunciation has improved mightily. But it was fun while it lasted.
Christmas morning was fun, if a little overwhelming. They only wanted to stop and play with toys, not open more. Until, of course, they were out of packages to open. THEN they wanted more to open. They seem not to have noticed the giant art easel Santa left them because it is neither a Thomas toy nor a Jay Jay toy.
At any rate, they are very happy little boys and we are, as a consequence, very happy moms. Tired, but happy. We were up until 2 a.m. getting things ready. Then, while the boys slept soundly, I tossed and turned in anticipation of the magical moment when they would see all that Santa had brought. They were not nearly as excited as their mothers were, sadly. And now the sleep deprivation is hitting me hard and we have people coming over and a friggin' Christmas dinner to cook. Ho-Ho-dee-Ho, I want a nap. For about six hours.
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