Magic.
For the first time ever, I got a real tree.
Our house smelled amazing.
Unfortunately, it had been so long since I had a real Christmas tree that I forgot they're supposed to be watered.
Mark had just put in brand new (fake) wood floors. There was no way I was going to damage those.
So we had a dried up, crispy Christmas tree.
But I loved it.
Our house had no furniture, I hadn't even begun to decorate (first things on my walls were in fact Christmas decorations), and most of our stuff was still in boxes.
But it was ours.
We had fires in the fireplace.
Mac made luminaries in school. (I love his preschool. It's just the greatest thing. Every day in December they talked about Christmas in another country; Mac came home with all sorts of stories about Sinter Klause and Los Tres Reyes ... it was just too fun.)
We tried to take pictures. They wouldn't stay still.
Our ward had a Christmas party, and Santa Clause came with his wife. Mac ran and hid while Belle plopped right on his lap. Mrs. Clause hunted him down and promised extra Christmas presents if he would come take a picture.
Fiiiiine.
That's the best Santa picture I've ever gotten.
And sweet Harrison ...
Blew us all away with his quiet disposition. He slept great. He was awake great. Even his cry was great. Not at all ear-splitting.
A magic Christmas indeed.
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