Friday, December 21, 2012

2012 Davidson Christmas Letter

After I wrote yesterday's blog post, I got right to work on our family Christmas letter. It's a bit cheesy, but I couldn't get myself to write the token form letter. The photo cards printed last night so envelopes will be in the mail this afternoon to all our friends and family. Whether or not they arrive in time for Christmas is sketchy, but at least the task is off my conscience. Enjoy!

            “I didn’t eat them, Mom. Why do you always blame me?” asked Jax, a 12-year-old who loved eating sweets, especially his mom’s chocolate chip cookies.
            “Koy, did you eat them?” Mom asked. “Koy? Will you stop moving for a second and answer me?”
            “I didn’t eat them either, Mom,” Koy answered while stacking the couch cushions to jump on them for the hundredth time that night.
            “Well, I’d ask Ilsa if it were a bag of chips. She would never eat a plate full of cookies.”
            Mom was perplexed. She had helped her kids set out the plate of cookies for Santa and they mysteriously disappeared while she was in the basement for a brief moment with her sports-fanatic husband watching yet another college football game. He didn’t eat the cookies.
            “That dog must have done it,” Mom said, searching for the family’s adorable, yet constantly hungry black lab named Jem. “Jem, did you eat Santa’s cookies?” Jem wagged her tail, but was too lazy to lift her head.
            Mom walked back downstairs to ask the kids one more time where they thought the cookies might have gone.
            “Maybe I farted on them and they turned into the air,” Koy said with a devilish grin.
            “Maybe Jax and Koy ate them all and just aren’t telling you the truth. You should ground them,” Ilsa said, smiling. She made it her goal in life to get her brothers in trouble.
            “Mom, I didn’t eat the cookies and I have no idea what might have happened to them,” Jax said, irritated by Mom’s incessant questioning.  
            Completely annoyed with her family, Mom went to her room and turned on the Food Network channel. She muttered to herself, “Well, I didn’t eat the stinkin’ cookies.”
             Later that night when the kids were all snug in their beds with visions of iPods, iPads, and other electronic devices dancing in their heads, Mom and Dad heard noises coming from downstairs.
            Dad said, “It’s probably Ilsa trying to peek at her presents.”
            “I don’t think so. Let’s go check it out,” Mom urged.
            Mom and Dad wrapped up in their bathrobes and walked downstairs, passing Jem who figured they had everything under control. The noise had stopped before they hit the second set of stairs. The lights on the Christmas tree were shining bright.
            “I know I unplugged those lights,” Mom said.
            Dad stepped farther into the room and lifted the empty cookie plate from the coffee table.
            “The kids refilled that plate. How could they disappear again?” Mom wondered.
            Dad shrugged his shoulders and set the plate down. Mom gazed at the Christmas tree and noticed a small, handwritten note under it. The note read:

You bake such delicious cookies that I had to stop by twice. Thank you. Please hug and kiss your children every day and tell them that you love them more times than they think is necessary.
Peace on Earth and Merry Christmas, Santa
            Mom and Dad looked at each other in disbelief. Neither was sure how the note got under the tree, but both knew that the message sent was one they could live by. They hugged, said “I love you” and hustled back to bed, promising to hug and kiss their children first thing in the morning. 

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