On fudge

I did not see three ships come sailing in on Christmas Day in the morning, but I did see some very interesting things.

At church on Christmas Eve I saw:

My oldest son played Inn Keeper #3 and told Mary and Joseph they could stay in a barn. He was very convincing.

An old woman who looked like she was starving put money in the collection plate.

The grumpiest, saltiest looking cowboy-ish fella had tears streaming down his face after the Prayer of Thanksgiving.

16 of the sweetest, most darling children carry in 16 gifts for the “poor little boys and girls”.

After church I saw:

My nine year old daughter, who claims to no longer believe in Santa Claus, wig out all over her little brother for not going to bed quick enough. “Santa is in OHIO! Go to SLEEP!!”

Bing Crosby sing to The General. …I cry every time I see White Christmas.

On Christmas Day, I saw:

My husband. …I missed THAT sight a bunch last year.

My kids…smiling…and with their dad. 🙂

Fudge.

Grandmas and Uncles and Aunts and cousins and babies and toys and fudge.

Fudge.

Fudge.

Fudge.

..,between all the fudge and my husband being on the same continent as the rest of us, Christmas was very sweet indeed.

…now, excuse me, the fudge is calling…

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