No matter how happy and content with life I may be years from now, I know I will look back at these pictures someday and ache to climb into them again–to feel all the twinkle and magic and warmth that’s also present and available to us when we’re 50 and 60 and 85 but that’s palpable in such immeasurable intensity when our kids are little. When their innocence and sense of wonder is so great, it trumps any skepticism, stress or sadness. When Santa hats are still a little big on their heads, three frosted cookies at a party aren’t met with thoughts of calories, and pajama drawers are full of footie sleepers with reindeer and snowmen prints.
Our fourth annual North Pole Party–this year celebrated with 23 kids and their mamas–was again a favorite night of the year where clearly the spotlight of the evening was these precious kids and the purest form of curiosity, enthusiasm, friendship and wonder, completely unbridled.
I cry when I look at these pictures and then it makes me sappy and then I write really gooey motherish things–a complete If You Give a Mouse a Cookie situation but the get-your-shit-together kind. So I’ll give you pictures and let them speak for themselves.
Our reindeer food bar:
Scavenger hunt for Santa’s lost items in our neighborhood–and another elf sighting this year:
And inside for a reading of The Night Before Christmas and a present exchange. It’s my favorite part. It’s the part where, in one scene, you can see all of them and the magic is so present, there’s almost a haze.
Santa (*cough*mybrother*cough*) called again this year (I thought to cover his name on my phone this time), and my face literally hurt from smiling–partly because his enthusiasm and ho-hos were so on point and partly because the kids’ faces were like paintings depicting childhood.
The kids started raising their hands, wanting to say their own little something to Santa–“Santa, do you know my elf, Jeff?” (Oh! Ho ho ho, Jeff! Ho ho, yes! He’s a funny one, isn’t he? Ho ho!)–and they took turns coming up to the phone. It was magic.
Thank you to Uncle Bubby who slipped out of a Christmas party to make that important call and managed to fool even my dad. “Who was that awesome Santa?” he asked at the end of the party. “That was your son.” My brother later texted, “I have to admit, I almost blew my cover laughing when one of the kids said his elf’s name was Jeff.”
We’ve swept up most of the glitter, and another year of memories has been tucked in its place.
Three mores sleeps, sweet babies. Three more sleeps.
(and thank you to Heidi who took most of these pictures. We have a little friend photo pact–I take pics at her parties, she takes pics at mine).