Santa is on his way. We've been checking NORAD's satellite to determine where in the world he is and just how much more time we have before he arrives at our house. He's currently at Mt. Everest - to whom he's delivering there is beyond me but whatever - so we have some time before we are visited by that jolly old elf.
We are leaving for my brother's house soon. Normally this is something I would look forward to for days. I have been dreading it since Thanksgiving. It's just going to be different this year. And I'm going to have to explain it to my boys why it's different. And what are they going to do while we're there? And who are they going to play with? It's just going to be different and it's going to be hard to ignore the large elephant in the room. I think this year, though, everyone is going to be happy to see each other. That will be a change. A welcome one. But a change nonetheless.
I worry. A lot. I worry about the boys figuring out the truth about Santa. I worry about, when Andrew does figure out the truth, he's going to immediately spill the beans to Davis. And then I will no longer be able to live vicariously and enjoy Christmas through my children. I worry about that all the time. I guess I should just enjoy it while I have it. It's just with time passing so quickly it seems inevitable. And I dread that.
So Santa is coming overnight. And we're going to awaken to a room full of Christmas with laughter and joy. And I won't be able to stop thinking about my brother and his family. But I will love the smiles on my sons' faces. They will be priceless. And I won't let that escape me.
Merry Christmas. I mean that.