Santa came and paper flew. We’ve been dodging power-hits from the T-Ball set-up for two days now. We’ve built and trashed a few dozen block buildings, put together puzzles, colored with fat crayons so frantically that we’ve got to make another ticky-tack run tomorrow so we can show these beauties off properly.
And there are vehicles – trucks, cars, fire engines, tractors – all with appropriate sounds. The ladies in the house are finding all this varoom varoom business a tad mysterious, but it seems mighty important to The Perfect Grandson. He speaks “race car” more fluently than we do.
It snowed here for Christmas, although only for about half an hour and only between midnight and one o’clock. It didn’t stick and it didn’t stay, but I saw it blowing sideways at the streetlamps and it was a lovely gift. It rained for a week before the snow, devastating and stranding most of the state in floodwaters that have only just today begun to recede.
We had love and food and presents and family. With the flooding and events more dreadful, there are others who did not, so I’m grateful. There are always little miracles even in the worst of times.
The Perfect Grandson swears he saw a reindeer in our front yard.
“Sugar, where did you see the deer?”
“Wight dere.” He pointed at the postcard of grass that is our front yard.
“What was he doing out there?”
“Eatin gwass. Wet’s go, MiMi. I fina deer.”
We bundled up against the cold and searched for it high and low. We live in the middle of town, but it’s not unlikely there was a confused deer wandering the streets. Around here, things like that can happen. But what he saw was no deer – The Perfect Grandson says he saw a reindeer. And I believe him.