How I combat being a Scrooge.

It's hard to be a Scrooge when my kid loves everything about Christmas. I was not in the mood for caroling last night. Come to think of it, I never have been. Thankfully our ward mission leader is a lovely middle aged grandma who bakes fudge. I don't know if you know this, but fudge is a remedy for most things, even my PMS. She even had luke warm apple cider in a sippy cup ready for Scrunch. Mmmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmmm is what Scrunch said. Picture her classic Scrunch face and it was adorable. And there was the train around the tree. Mom how come we don't have one of those? (Tree included.) We're a little slow this year.

So while I snuck pieces of fudge from plates designated for those to be afflicted with our singing, Scrunch reverted back to the baby days where lights were mesmerizing. Looking at the lights through her eyes has made the primary colored lights cool again. I've reverted back to thinking about the twinkling rather than the ginormous electric bill that will closely match July's when the air conditioner is running full blast.

Christmas hasn't been really cool since I was fourteen and we got our first Playstation and autographed poster of Ben Affleck. It's been a minute since I've really, really looked forward to Santa. The last few years Christmas has been on the lame side. Even dreaded at times. But there is something about seeing Christmas through the eyes of my own child that makes it the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas is cool again. Even caroling was almost cool.

We need a little practice since as we walked out the door Husband belted out, "Hark the herald angels sing! Tra la la la la."

Scrunch has the la la la's down. We've been working on those.

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