Christmas

Papaw Ted was awake at 4:30, he the most eager to start the Christmas morning festivities. And while he toiled away downstairs lighting the tree, cuing the Christmas music, and stoking the fire, Clara snored peacefully in her crib. For the past several days, this same girl would not sleep past 5:00 am. But on the morning so carefully choreographed for her maximum elation, she let the clock tick and tock while Ted anticipated her excited descent down the staircase. 

5:15...5:30...5:45...6:00...6:05. Finally! She stirs. She shouts for Mama. And then she takes her time freshening up her diaper and pokying around upstairs. But at 6:20 Clara is ready for her entrance.

At the top of the stairs her Dada mentions that Santa came last night, just as promised. Clara stiffens up, her eyes wide, and reaches for the nearest adult to clutch. Much as our previous visits with Santa, a kind of catatonic trance overtakes her. She is entirely hushed and clings tightly to Paul as they creep down the steps. 

First, she sees the plate of cookie crumbs and an emptied glass of milk along with a note from Kris himself. She touches the plate gently. Evidence. Still, no words. She's taking it in.

Next, she surveys the loot. It is abundant. Santa is good. The stocking is bursting from its seams. Still, she is silent.

Then she sees that one thing she has requested time and again with each Santa encounter. Doll Baby. It sits in a doll-sized potty under the Christmas tree. Perhaps, she seems to be thinking, there is something to this Santa fellow after all. She trots Doll Baby around for all to admire.  But still she is mute.

Finally, she goes back to the tree and picks up the Doll Baby potty and she is ready for her first words for her first Christmas (well, the first during which she is aware)..."potty."  Yes, potty. Two minutes of silence in the face of a glut of gifts, nearly all of them much more exciting than this Baby Doll accessory. And she says potty. 

That's our girl. She does it on her terms. Granted, this loosened things up. She was now ready to partake in a bender of wrapping paper destruction and toy consumption. This child is loved by Santa Claus and his minions!

Clara works hard the next hour or two, partaking of treats from the stocking, kissing the growing pile of Elmo paraphernalia, demonstrating her maternal nature while caring for her new Doll Baby (which she had named "Jackie" well in advance of receiving it), and playing kitchen with her new food sets.  

Ahhh....life is good. 

And as should be expected, no child (or grandfather) can endure such wonder for long. Soon it overwhelms the senses and requires a good Christmas afternoon nap.  They oblige the urge together, collapsing on the couch for a winter snooze. You can see the sugarplum fairies dancing through their dreams.

Merry Christmas our sweet little Clara!