We had a crisis the other day. One of the elves hit the floor. Apparently he had fallen sometime during the wee hours of the night, ending up face down on the cold bare hardwood floor in the family room. Aubry was squatting (as those of us with Asian children know and revel in) as only she can squat, hands clasped behind her back, completely balanced, bending way over – her nose roughly an inch from the inert elf. Greyson was lying in the big chair, curled up tightly around one of our kittens, sobbing all of his sadness out. It was his elf that had taken the dive.
Assessing the situation with my mommy-frazzled and sleep deprived brain, I asked what had happened. Greyson choked it out; he had come down to see if his elf had moved over the night and found it on the floor. He was afraid one the kittens might hurt or kill it and it would leave or die never to return and sever all ties to the ever-watchful jolly Santa .
Of course, I asked my two if they had touched the elf.
“Oh, no – we didn’t touch him! He would disappear!”
Looking down to hide my smile and the tears of tenderness in my eyes, I told Greyson to go see if Daddy might have any ideas. I took Aubry with me and we let the kittens out. Greyson came tearing into the mudroom as I was shutting the outside door, letting me know that Daddy was going to do something.
As we came into the kitchen, Mark rushed in, “Where did you go? I went to see about the elf and he just popped up, like “poof”, onto the valance! It was amazing! You wouldn’t have believed it!”
Mark and I exchanged stupefied looks. Aubry and Greyson’s eyes were huge and their mouths were wide open. They ran into the family room and we followed. There sat the elf, posed and peering down at Greyson. I squeezed Mark’s hand. Crisis averted. One more year of believing.
I hope that you can experience the wonder and magic of Christmas and the holiday season though the eyes of a child.