Second Chances

If there’s anything sweeter than waking up on Christmas morning to the sound of a small child squealing, “Santa was here!” I don’t know what it is.

I took the crazy cacophony of Christmas mornings for granted when my kids were young. Truth is, I was so exhausted from my full-time newspaper job and Christmas preparations that it was all I could do to stagger to the coffee pot once I heard them.

In those working mother days all I wanted for Christmas was another hour of sleep. 

My, how times have changed.

At 6:45 Christmas morning my 4-year-old granddaughter was shaking me awake.

“Kerry you have GOT to come downstairs,” she began breathlessly. “Santa ate the cookies and the reindeer ate the carrots and there are so many presents you just have to see them all I must’ve been so good this year come see!”

And I did. 

Carrot remnants on the welcome mat. Proof that hungry reindeer had stopped by.

Instead of groaning and begging for a few more minutes under the covers as I did when my own kids tried to coax me out of bed, I jumped up and followed this pajamaed pixie downstairs, seeing the magic through her wide eyes. The lights, the brightly wrapped packages, the stockings.

Her belief that Santa Claus had journeyed from the North Pole to bring her toys and books was innocent and unshakable.

When we held hands before Christmas dinner, this happy kid led the grace. 

I realized today that grandchildren give you a second chance. A chance to be more patient. To never say “later” when a little person asks you to read her a story, or play with her new doll house, or join her for a tea party. A chance to be madly in love with the child of your child.

So here it is, 10:30 on Christmas night. All is calm. All is bright.

I never looked at my phone or watched one minute of news. 

Instead, I spent Christmas with my family. Especially with a little girl who likes to wear cowboy boots without socks and who burst into tears only once today: When her mother unwittingly set the table without her.

“I wanted to help,” she wept.

We’ll be back to business tomorrow. Tonight I’m counting my blessings.

Chief among them is that exhausted little girl asleep in her mother’s old bedroom.