Well, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We've been keeping quite busy around these parts with baking, gift wrapping, and last minute shopping. Everything is coming together nicely and I am just looking forward to spending time with family and squeezing every ounce of magic out of Christmas and serving it up generously to my very enthusiastic little girl.
That is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Christmas Magic. Honestly, I hadn't cared for the holiday season much before having Hannah. Sure, I loved it as a kid, but I grew up and it lost it's appeal. But now I'm more excited than ever. Last night after Hannah went to bed I had Elf on in the background while I wrapped presents. That scene at the end where Santa's sleigh gets off the ground because of everyone's Christmas spirit? It made me bawl like a baby. While wiping my eyes I muttered to myself, "why the heck am I crying?" But as the credits rolled and I scribbled Santa's name on one of Hannah's gifts, I figured it out. I was crying because of the magic of Christmas.
Often I feel like it is my job to show Hannah the best of the world. One day she is going to grow up and find out that this world can suck sometimes. There will be lots of disappointments that she will have to face. But now? Now she is my innocent baby girl. And that means that she can believe in magic, miracles, happily ever after, and that Santa Claus is coming down our chimney to bring her presents. Sure, she doesn't understand all that now. But her face lights up when she sees Santa on a commercial, and she shrieks with delight "Sa-ta!" There is magic in that.
Childhood is supposed to be magical. It is supposed to be filled with inexplicable wonder. It is her job to one day stay up at night listening for sleigh bells on the roof, and dash out of bed before the sun comes up. Sure, I believe that Christmas is about family, and giving, and traditions. And we spend lots of time celebrating each of those elements as well. But it is my hope that one day Hannah will look back at Christmases from her childhood and remember the awe and excitement of being a little girl who believed in magic.
XOXO
That is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Christmas Magic. Honestly, I hadn't cared for the holiday season much before having Hannah. Sure, I loved it as a kid, but I grew up and it lost it's appeal. But now I'm more excited than ever. Last night after Hannah went to bed I had Elf on in the background while I wrapped presents. That scene at the end where Santa's sleigh gets off the ground because of everyone's Christmas spirit? It made me bawl like a baby. While wiping my eyes I muttered to myself, "why the heck am I crying?" But as the credits rolled and I scribbled Santa's name on one of Hannah's gifts, I figured it out. I was crying because of the magic of Christmas.
Often I feel like it is my job to show Hannah the best of the world. One day she is going to grow up and find out that this world can suck sometimes. There will be lots of disappointments that she will have to face. But now? Now she is my innocent baby girl. And that means that she can believe in magic, miracles, happily ever after, and that Santa Claus is coming down our chimney to bring her presents. Sure, she doesn't understand all that now. But her face lights up when she sees Santa on a commercial, and she shrieks with delight "Sa-ta!" There is magic in that.
Childhood is supposed to be magical. It is supposed to be filled with inexplicable wonder. It is her job to one day stay up at night listening for sleigh bells on the roof, and dash out of bed before the sun comes up. Sure, I believe that Christmas is about family, and giving, and traditions. And we spend lots of time celebrating each of those elements as well. But it is my hope that one day Hannah will look back at Christmases from her childhood and remember the awe and excitement of being a little girl who believed in magic.
XOXO
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