My love, Jimmie, simply doesn't register Christmas, except to kick the tree. Presents mean nothing. Santa is nice, and he likes him. Probably for the red suit and the big smile. Who doesn't like Santa? But there is no excitement in his eyes about Christmas. It's just Christmas. It's fun. There's family. Scott's house or Aunt Beth's house are nice places to run around in. They're bigger than our house. But that excitement only comes in the being there. There is no anticipation. And anticipation, after all, is the magic of Christmas.
Last year Charlie was almost 2. I had hoped he would kind of get it, but not really. Not yet.
This year, he is almost three. He has learned to talk. And he gets Santa....big time. He watches all the Christmas Specials. He went to the Christmas Parade with Mommy (Jimmie stayed home sick). He watched the parade as he shivered with a huge smile on his face.
He waited in line at the bank after to see Santa Claus. He was patient. He did not butt in line. He stood by my side the whole time. The little boy in front of us was about Charlie's age. He would have none of Santa. Nope. Not sitting in his lap. Nope. Not smiling for a picture. Nope. I have no idea who this person is, and he scares me. Nope. But Charlie stood there perfectly calm, holding my hand. Then the family moved on, giving up this year. I said, "Charlie, it's your turn." He dropped my hand like a hot rock and took a running leap into Santa's lap. Big grin. Big hug. Tongue stuck out. For some reason he sticks his tongue out when he smiles. Santa asked, "What do you want for Christmas?" He gave a one word answer, loud, and clear, at least to Mommy, who actually did have to interpret it to Santa, "TOYS!" Santa laughed, "Ho Ho Ho! I think the elves can manage that!" And for a week or so, that was the best answer we could get out of him.
But I knew his secret desire. And he revealed it to both Mommy and Daddy in a simple trip to the grocery store. He walked by the cart. And then he saw it! And he made a run at it! And he squealed with delight! "FLASHLIGHT!" His father pried it out of his hands. I laughed and said that he should ask Santa for it. He put it back with joy knowing that Santa might bring him that flashlight. We walked away. As we rounded the corner, and he bounced ahead, I gave his father the high sign.
Ever since, whenever you ask what Santa is going to bring he says, "Toys! and a flashlight."
Tonight we called the North Pole. Charlie spoke to Santa on the phone. Santa asked again what he wanted (and again Mommy actually had to interpret), and Charlie once again responded, "Santa Claus bring toys and fwashwight!" He really wants that flashlight. And it is so awesome!
He sat in the recliner covered with the Disney blanket, drinking a glass of milk, watching House of Mouse Christmas, falling asleep. I got him into bed, tucked in, teeth brushed, books read, prayers said. No sleeping. An hour later, he calls, "Mommy! Mommy!" I go in. His eyes are wide. "I hear sleigh bells." I laugh. "No baby. Not yet. You have to wait a few more days." He says, "Oh. Santa Claus bring fwashwight?" I assure him that I am sure Santa will bring his flashlight.
Yes. The magic of Christmas is the anticipation.
