It’s Christmas Eve and though visions of sugarplums dance in my head, children argue over Xbox remotes and steal my phone.
It’s Christmas Eve and though I planned a yummy breakfast, I served up some mini wheats in paper bowls.
It’s Christmas Eve and when I mentioned going to church, my family acted like I was shipping them to prison- I mean, it’s Monday, they cried.
It’s Christmas Eve and though I imagine a family bike ride, we are all splayed on the couch eating a Food Lion cookie cake and watching Christmas Vacation.
It’s Christmas Eve and I remembered a few presents that needed delivering though taking a shower seemed too big a commitment, so we delivered in our pajamas and accepted breakfast from those who had their you know what together.
It’s Christmas Eve and since most people had gone to church, we drove by the church and left bottles of Egg Nog (a seasonal treat from the liquor store) on our friends’ cars.
It’s Christmas Eve and I built two fires which had filled me with contentment.
It’s Christmas Eve and my son wants to make cookies so we will unearth the slice and bake from the fridge and toss on some sprinkles.
It’s Christmas Eve and I wonder if I will find all the mess that I’ve shoved and hidden here and there, but really, I’m not too worried.
After all, it’s Christmas Eve.