We got up early today. I think Young One was practicing for tomorrow's mad rush to the tree. I don't mind getting up early, as long as it's my idea! Christmas and Easter morning always dawn bright and early for us and we're pulled stumbling down the stairs by Young One, who most certainly has been lying awake for at least an hour.
We established the no presents until after 6 am rule after we were awakened before 5 one Christmas morning. Amazing how you learn as you go with this parenting thing!
A long time ago, someone I admire who also has an only child mentioned that Christmas can be kind of odd when there is only one child. There's not that Christmas of your youth, you know, the combined ripping open of packages and exclaiming that only comes when you throw together a group of young siblings. I don't agree with her at all. I do remember the combined joy, but I also remember making comparisons, fighting for mom and dad's attention, and the scoffing of my brothers as I opened my Baby Alive doll, a present I still remember in it's perfectness. My childhood Christmases are perfect in my memory, but they are MY childhood experiences, not Young One's. It's easy to get lost in comparisons when you have just one child. I constantly remind myself that he know only this experience and that it's my job to make sure his memories are joyful.
I love our Christmas mornings, however bleary-eyed I might appear. It's just the three of us, without any distractions. Our little family, perfect just the way it is. To criticize that would be to look God in the eye and laugh at His plans.
Today is delightful in it's perfect anticipation. I've always loved Christmas Eve. I get to spend the afternoon and evening with my extended family. Then we come home to savor the waiting. I'll wrap a few more presents for tomorrow morning. I'll make some cinnamon rolls and set them to rise for tomorrow's Christmas breakfast. I'll snuggle in close and enjoy the perfectness of my little family.