And finally, finishing out my Christmas posts (one more New Year's yet to come)
Once we were settled back home, my husband asked me what my favorite holiday gift was – I joked that the ant traps might be hard to beat (though they didn’t seem to be working as well as I’d hoped. Tangent: They actually weren’t a gift, but he’d gone out to get them on Christmas Eve so we could put them out all over when neither the dog nor the baby was around to find them / get sick. He’d stopped at Lowes just before lunch on Christmas Eve, bought a stack of them and told the salesperson – “I just want them dead. All dead! … Merry Christmas!” Ah, who doesn’t love the smell of napalm on Christmas morning?). He’d given me lots of nice stuff for the house, so it was hard to choose.
I asked what his favorite was, fully expecting the trilogy of Christmas pictures of the munchkin to top the list, but he surprised me. He’s always complained about our drive north at Christmas. Every year, he says – it’s too much! This is the last year. But, this year he took a different approach. After months of running around and barely being able to stop to look around (ever!), he told me his favorite gift was the time we got together, just us, in our car ride. Aw, shucks. (I assume he’s probably not including the hour of screaming baby at the end.)