Up at 5:45am, trudge upstairs to awaken the kids for Christmas
Back downstairs, where to put the #%^$* Elf this time. Bridget's Christmas stocking is as good a place as any. Must get him out of my robe, he seems extra scratchy this morning.
Maybe it's time. Maybe I should insert a little note with the #$%* Elf, (but Bridget calls him Robin), from Santa, reminding Bridget that next year she will be thirTEEN (gulp), and the #$*^% Elf only visits children. Maybe it's time.
Why is this #%&* Elf extra scratchy in my robe today? Drag him out, and a bright orange sticky flutters to the floor.
In Bridget's neatest writing, I read:
Thank you for these many beautiful days of friendship this December. Although I may have an odd way of showing it, I really do love you. And not just because you put in a good word with Santa; you are a truly great elf and I hate to see you go back to the North Pole for almost a year. But I know you miss your friends, family & you have much work to do up there. But I really do hope we've been hospitable this early winter so that you don't feel uncomfortable in this "hot" Texas winter.
Again, thank you very much for your kindness, heart, and long-time-forever-lasting friendship. I love you.
Now, I know Bridget has the whole Santa Thang all figured out, but she chooses to play along, and enjoys the mystery and excitement.
So, no. No, I won't tell Bridget she's "too old" for the $#^* Elf. I won't force her to face grown up issues any sooner than she wants to face them. If she chooses to immerse herself in the magic of the season, who am I to deny her?
I am going to jump right in there with her, and enjoy every moment.
Thank you, Bridget, for keeping the magic alive.
Merry Christmas everyone. Let's all take a lesson from Bridget today and embrace it all. Be of good cheer. Find your inner child, open your hearts. Be merry.