That can't be said for everything, though. There were casualties. There were cries of "Can't I have ANYTHING nice?" There were blank stares loaded with "why did I even bother?" when we came hanging our heads that something special had been broken.
My kids and I were doing some holiday baking with my mom yesterday. And, God love her, I think Christmas threw up in her house. I mean, the Spirit of Christmas Present had some bad egg nog and hurled Christmas. Everywhere.In.The.House. I'm surprised there is no Christmas toilet paper. But it really is a magical place for the kids to visit during the holidays. And my mother adores showing them all of her moving and electric Christmas decorations. You can literally see the memories being made in their minds as they awe in wonder at the tiny dancing Nutcracker ballerinas.
|Three generations of cookie bakers: Me, my sweet S, and my Momma.|
Yep: retro, golden, angel playing the accordion. She began as a set of three, and, you guessed it. Two fell victim to tragic deaths at the hands of four rambunctious children. I can't pinpoint which of us children, exactly. But after so many years have passed, can't we just lump it up to all four of us together? (Says the one who most likely broke it.)
I was commenting to my mom how sad it was that only one survived, and she is battered and chipped at that. Suddenly a light bulb! Um, hello! Why have I not researched these?! My mom purchased the set from a church tag sale and there was no marking on the bottom of the remaining angel. So into my search engine went: 1960s gold angel playing the accordion. And what to my wondering eyes should appear? A Christmas miracle.
P.S. LOVE YOU MOMMA, and your Christmas decorations!!