We went to the Christingle service at St. Thomas this afternoon. Alistair was very good holding his lighted Christingle, unlike last year when he nearly set my hair on fire. While we were standing at the front of the candlelit church singing Away in the Manger, Charlotte, eyeing the candy attached to the nearby Christingle, kept signing and asking for more.
After dinner, we read Twas the Night Before Christmas and then got the kids into their pajamas. It was late and Charlotte was so tired, she tried to climb into her bed. Colin showed Alistair Google's Santa tracker which tells you what town Santa is delivering presents, where he is on the map, how many presents he's delivered so far, and even photos of the town. Santa was in Argentina. "Oh, you should go to bed soon because Santa won't come until you're asleep," I said. "Why?" Alistair asked. "Because," was all I could think of. Alistair hopped off Colin's lap and announced, "No stories. I'm going to bed," and he did his little excited quick running steps to his room, shut off the light, closed the door, and got into bed. No requests for water, no repeated requests for cuddles, nothing.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!
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