Christmas Eve, little one. I am spending most of my time assembling a new desk for me and a bouncy contraption for you.
Your mother is sitting in the living room, resting her sore back and in the midst of a South Park Christmas marathon. Episode after episode of South Park hilarity.
You can’t underestimate the level of happiness I feel in knowing that I married a woman who chooses to spend her Christmas Eve watching South Park. I honestly feel as if I have married the coolest girl on the planet.
Ordinarily we would join the Wolgemuths for midnight mass at their church, but with the arrival of Ariadne less than two weeks ago and your mother’s prodigious pregnancy, we decided to skip services this year.
Maybe next year.
Speaking of South Park and your mother, let it be known that your mother is one of the best gift givers in the world. Her gifts to me are always highly personal, remarkably clever, and most impressive, she often spends less than ten dollars per gift.
Take last year. My favorite gift was a chocolate version of Mr. Hanky, the indelible Christmas character from more than one South Park holiday episode. Your mom found a chocolate popsicle, complete with face and holiday hat, that resembled the cartoon character, and to the hat, she adorned the words Mr. Hanky. It probably cost her two bucks, but it was my favorite gift from the Christmas last year.
No matter what you hear or see in this world, little one, never judge a gift by the amount of money spent on it. Rather, consider the thought and wit that went into the gift and the amusement that it brings.
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