In my last post, I mentioned how I'd always had this feeling that Christmas was meant for something. When I attended a school run by nuns (grades 7-9) I'd have the time of my life singing hymns, Christmas carols, listening to stories from the Bible and doing up a crib in the run-up to Christmas Eve. The school held a contest and the class that put up the best, most realistic looking crib won a prize. Nobody was more enthusiastic than I was. But at home, naturally enough, there wasn't much to do at Christmas except wait for our Catholic neighbors (and there were plenty) to send us the goodies!
Yesterday, my son woke up in the morning and announced that he wanted us to bake a cake together. It was probably courtesy a set of measuring cups my mum gave him the day before - he was itching to try them out 'for real.' I wasn't sure I had all the ingredients for a cake but the little fellow announced solemnly: "We'll make adjustments."
So flour got substituted with whole wheat and the brat spent an eternity extracting egg whites. But he worked away like the proverbial elf in Santa's workshop until an hour later, we had a soft, spongy chocolate cake with nuts in it. "There's less sugar in this," he remarked. "Grind some in the mixer and put it all over the top. Then it will taste better," declared the young chef. So I did as I was told and voila, it did taste better.
In the afternoon, I took him to the amusement arcade near our house. On the way down, he spotted small, plastic Christmas trees on display and asked if we could buy one. I told him we'd get one next year and then he could do it up himself. After all, it was already the evening of the 25th, a bit late in the day to put up a tree, I thought. But fate willed otherwise. The enthusiastic salesgirl announced loudly that all Christmas decorations (the tree included) were on a Buy-one-get-two-free offer. The little elf's ears perked up, and I knew it was a lost battle. So we came back home with two trees that were less than 3ft high and one even smaller. The ornaments went up and my son's face was brighter than the fairy lights on the tree.
He then took the smallest tree down to my mum's house and put that up as well - and beamed again!
What is it they say about parents living out their dreams through their children? My son doesn't know it, but he made one of my earliest childhood dreams come true yesterday. Thank you, sweetheart. :-)