Cookie Day
Tell me there is something more beautiful than the eyes of a child that believes, and I will argue till I am blue in the face. It doesn't have to be that they believe in Santa, just that they believe in a world and a higher power, something out there exists that is greater than they are..... we can even call it magic.... is magical in itself.
Right now there are Rudolph cookies baking in the oven, set to be complete when the yellow school bus arrives. His eyes will widen to the size of saucers as he realizes that yes, without snow Christmas is still coming. How will he EVER survive TWO MORE DAYS OF SCHOOL?
Remember when that felt like an eternity?
I clearly remember Christmas morning, my father stating that no one comes down the stairs until his inspection is complete. Oh the power he must have felt as he casually brewed their morning coffee, turned on the lights, sat in his easy chair. Of the feeling of power he must have felt when he finally declared it was all right to come down. The time that elapsed was five minutes to him but in our Santa believing minds it was a good three years long! Down the long staircase we descended, how we ever made it through all of those Christmas mornings without injury because of that is another Christmas miracle.
Santa always came as long as we believed. And to this day I still do.
It is with magical wonder and unshattered, undoubtful, uncensored belief that our little boy embraces Christmas with every ounce of his soul. We don't shower him with gifts, but we have taught him that the gift is in giving itself.
I want him to always feel this hope, this happiness, this excitement. I want to bottle it up and freeze it for a day when we all need to be reminded. I want some of that for myself. My husband claims he learns it form me, but I don't think so. Our little boy somewhere, somehow has discovered the bright light that is shining brightly within him, and he shines like the sun. He is my little sunshine and I want that to be preserved forever.
Little does he know that in 10 minutes when he exits his bus and bids goodbye to his friends, I have an afternoon of Christmas cookie making in store for the two of us. It will be too much sugar, M&M's and Hershey kisses. Mouthfuls of cookie dough and belly aching at the end of the day.
But years from now I want him to remember as he creates this same memory for his own children. A time when he and his Mommy made cookies together, and licked the spoons clean and made snowmen from cookies dough.
That's what little boys are made of.
:-) Mary Eggers
Right now there are Rudolph cookies baking in the oven, set to be complete when the yellow school bus arrives. His eyes will widen to the size of saucers as he realizes that yes, without snow Christmas is still coming. How will he EVER survive TWO MORE DAYS OF SCHOOL?
Remember when that felt like an eternity?
I clearly remember Christmas morning, my father stating that no one comes down the stairs until his inspection is complete. Oh the power he must have felt as he casually brewed their morning coffee, turned on the lights, sat in his easy chair. Of the feeling of power he must have felt when he finally declared it was all right to come down. The time that elapsed was five minutes to him but in our Santa believing minds it was a good three years long! Down the long staircase we descended, how we ever made it through all of those Christmas mornings without injury because of that is another Christmas miracle.
Santa always came as long as we believed. And to this day I still do.
It is with magical wonder and unshattered, undoubtful, uncensored belief that our little boy embraces Christmas with every ounce of his soul. We don't shower him with gifts, but we have taught him that the gift is in giving itself.
I want him to always feel this hope, this happiness, this excitement. I want to bottle it up and freeze it for a day when we all need to be reminded. I want some of that for myself. My husband claims he learns it form me, but I don't think so. Our little boy somewhere, somehow has discovered the bright light that is shining brightly within him, and he shines like the sun. He is my little sunshine and I want that to be preserved forever.
Little does he know that in 10 minutes when he exits his bus and bids goodbye to his friends, I have an afternoon of Christmas cookie making in store for the two of us. It will be too much sugar, M&M's and Hershey kisses. Mouthfuls of cookie dough and belly aching at the end of the day.
But years from now I want him to remember as he creates this same memory for his own children. A time when he and his Mommy made cookies together, and licked the spoons clean and made snowmen from cookies dough.
That's what little boys are made of.
:-) Mary Eggers
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