So far, I've had the privilege of spending three Christmases with you, my sweet-T. Our first Christmas was momentous, of course, because I finally had you in my life. And, at almost four-months-old, you and I were really getting on swimmingly. Meeting Santa for the first time left you slightly stunned and a bit rattled, but we got our picture. The mark of the second Christmas season was special because you became a little being that walked, talked, and most of all laughed a giggle that should be branded for all to hear. Of course, Santa Clause was not a fellow you enjoyed meeting, but, again, we got our picture. This year, however, all that changed when Santa presented you with a candy cane--and, you and the red-suited guy became fast friends. You told him secrets, sat on his lap, and even gave him a hug! We got our picture(s)! This is the Christmas in which you have learned traditions that will live on: We decorate the whole house in Christmas trimmings--including putting a wreath on the front door. Reading Christmas stories every night before bedtime has been 'especially fine' as you always recognize and point out, Santa, tree, lights, presents, reindeer, and all sorts of holiday-isms. Hearing, you exclaim, "Happy Birthday, Jesus," has made this year the one to beat. I love how Dada has been outlining Santa's visit to our home: He travels down our chimney (thank goodness we have a fireplace), retrieves all of your presents from his toy sack, and arranges them around our tree. And, after that arduous task, he eats the cookies and drinks the milk we have set out for him. And, boy, did he eat those cookies and drink that milk. . . barely a crumb was left and not even a sip of milk to be had! Christmas morning involved a daunting assignment . . . you had presents upon presents to open. I enjoyed watching you unwrap each present carefully, and then shout, "WOW!" And, to think the fun didn't stop at our house! Santa stopped at Grandma and Papa's house, and dropped off more presents; hence, the process begins again. . . oh, to be two again! The perspective of Christmas for me and Dada has been altered forever; we live the holidays through your eyes. At the end of Christmas Day, I turned to Dada, and asked, "Can it get any better than this?" Dada replied, "I don't know; how could it get any better?" How could it really get any better? Indeed. . .
