bah humbug

a letter to Santa

I stare at the boxes marked 'Christmas decorations' occupying several shelves along a wall in our basement. Attempting to maneuver around several large objects, my mood is quickly turning sour. I'm tired and grumpy. Just trying to get through the holidays. Too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it. My 12-year-old daughter bounds down the stairs, "Want some help?" I tell her I don't think we'll be putting up Christmas decorations this year. She thinks I'm kidding and immediately pitches in, clearing a path, carrying several wooden Santas up the stairs. Before I can say bah humbug, holiday tunes are blasting and the Santa collection lines the mantle. Iz and I dust and polish.

"Are you going to put out milk and cookies for Santa this year?" I ask.

"I'm not going to break tradition."

My husband opens a bottle of wine, pours me a glass and thanks me for creating such a nice home. The three of us share a family hug.

How can I stay Scrooge in this environment?

We don't have a tree yet. We're hoping for some snow by next weekend as we head out in search of the perfect tree. The weather has turned very cold, but sunny.