Every year on Christmas Eve, the kids get to sleep in the living room, their sleeping bags unrolled and spread close to the Christmas tree. And every year, I sleep in the living room, too--not on the floor, but on the couch--soaking in the beauty of the lights, the joy of anticipation, and the peace of those moments. I ALWAYS do this.
But not this year.
The reason has everything to do with this little guy.
Our Christmas Eve was simple this year--although I guess it really always is. We ate potato soup and garlic cheese biscuits and finished our meal with a yummy cinnamon roll ring that our next-door neighbors had made and brought over for us. And then, as is our custom, we gave each child (except Benjamin) one gift.
our friends who stayed with us recently sent for Josiah (because I thought he would enjoy having it to read on Christmas Eve by the light of the tree lights). :)
The Snowman before finally saying that it was bedtime. As you might expect, they did not all fall asleep immediately. ;-) I don't know who was first to succumb to slumber's pull--maybe Shav, since he, having claimed a spot on the little couch, was probably the most comfortable. :) But I do know who was the last: dear little Moriah. It was well after 11:00 when she finally gave in and let sleep take her. :) And then I briefly left my kitchen duties so I could creep around the living room and took a few pictures to remember this night by. :)