Dear Elli,
You are 4 years old. And Christmas is magical. So magical, in fact, that you can barely contain your excitement. And I'm having an awesome time watching it all unfold.
You told me the other day that "Christmas is all about giving, and eating ham dinner". And that's not far from the truth. But giving is better than ham dinner in the priority chain. Just in case you were wondering.
You also told me that I'm not "in the Christmas spirit" because I won't buy "a giant inflatable baby Jesus for the front yard". I'm sorry. But being in the Christmas spirit does not necessitate becoming the white trash spectacle of the neighborhood. Our regular outdoor Christmas lights will have to suffice.
But everything is magical to you. Cookie baking. Gingerbread house making. Christmas tree decorating. Breakfast with Santa. The Polar Express train ride. Our Elf on the Shelf. A giant inflatable baby Jesus. All magical.
You see the magic and it makes you happy. More than happy, really. It transforms you into a state of awe that is absolutely breathtaking to witness. And that is, by far, the best part of being a parent. The magic.
It makes me believe in magic again. And it makes me remember that magic is real. Very real. All I have to do is look at you and I see it. Because you're a super smart kid. Yet there is no doubt in your mind that Christmas is magical. And you're absolutely right.
But that magic actually rests with you. Inside you. You, Baby Girl, are my magic. Because you believe in things you can't see or touch. You believe in impossible possibilities. You believe in miracles.
Sometimes adults forget these things. And that's why kids are magical. They help us to remember. So thank you. Thank you for reminding me.
I love you. And I hope you have a magical Christmas. This year, and every year. I know I will, thanks to you.
Mom
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