I try to be Christ-like. I try to do the right things. I try to say the right words. I try to think the right thoughts.
I try to smile at people as they pass. I try to support the appropriate causes. I try to love my neighbors even when they don’t love me back. I try to be kind and supportive to those in need.
Every day, I try to be like Christ.
Every day, I fail. I laugh at the wrong joke. I pass judgment on someone else’s life. I turn a blind eye to life’s injustice.
“What if every tow truck ran out of gas?”
“How do bodies get to heaven after they’ve been buried?”
“‘Si usted está contento y usted sabe que aplaudas! That means, ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap you hands!”
It’s not unusual for a period of 15 minutes with Squirts to follow this or some similar line of conversation. Sometimes, it’s like trying to chase popcorn. Just when you think you know where a topic is headed…pop, we’re off in another direction.
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Recently, we celebrated Squirts’ fifth birthday. Could that be right? His fifth birthday? There are many days I don’t feel old enough to have a five-year-old son. Of course, most days I’m reminded (by either my body or my wife) that I’m easily old enough to have a 20-year-old son, to say nothing of a five-year-old. But that’s another story.
We kicked off what has become an annual weeklong celebration by telling Squirts he could choose to eat anywhere he’d like on his actual birthday. The week then followed with cupcakes at school, a bowling party with friends, and a family party with his Aunt K who shares a birthday the same month. By the time it’s all over, it feels like we should start prepping for his sixth!
Dawn was breaking with the sun not quite peaking through the window yet. I feel a light tap on the side of the bed and peel my eyes open to see Squirts’ fully-opened eyes and huge grin.
“Come on Daddy! Get Mommy! It’s time to get up! It’s time to GET UUPPPP!!”
Only Christmas morning could bring that much enthusiasm at this hour of the day. The excitement of the unknown. The long-awaited anticipation of Santa’s visit finally realized. The weeks of preparation coming to fruition. It’s almost too much to bear!
But here’s the rub: it’s not Christmas morning. It’s the morning after Christmas. In addition to the big smile, Squirts has in his hand his favorite gift from the morning before. It appears that Squirts is still on some sort of Christmas high. He’s clearly still feeling the Christmas love. For Squirts, the excitement of Christmas day has spilled over into the day after.
