Because if you don't blog about it, it never happened. At least that's what my friend
Rachel tells me. And I believe everything she says because
I'm afraid of her I love her.
I was surprised to discover that Isaac doesn't care too much for the tree...unless he catches you re-hanging the ornaments; then he's super interested. I think his love language is ornament displacement. He's very helpful like that. The tree is sparse this year with just a few Isaac-proof ornaments that he can grab, chew, lick and love to his heart's content. The one I put on and shouldn't have was his "Baby's 1st Christmas" block ornament. Isaac's little chompers scraped away a bit of the paint. At first I was quite sad and a little irritated to find it blemished. But then my wise, reasonable and might I add, beautiful, mother simply stated that one day I will cherish those marks left by my son and I knew she was right. Sometimes I'm dumb. I suspect presents will be met with the same excitement as the Christmas tree. But I'm excited, nevertheless, to see Isaac rip open approximately 0.46 presents before he's distracted and enamored with a box, paper, bow or my hair. He loves hair.
It was with great anticipation we were awaiting Isaac's arrival last year. And now it is with a renewed perspective that I anticipate and await the celebration of the birth of our Savior. Merry Christmas.