At our house, Santa Claus always left his presents unwrapped in front of the hearth. For that reason, my parents insisted that Lizzie and I come and wake them up and wait for them to be ready before going into the living room for the big reveal. Every year we promised. And every year, we crept into there together before getting my parents up and then after sharing our geniune oohs and ahhs with each other we would wake our parents up. Then we would pantomine our surprise, but no matter how good the performance, there was always a tinge of the fake.
We were pleased with our gifts, but we had kept that first, most wide-eyed wonder for ourselves. It just seemed to take my parents too long to get ready.
My point is this...when it comes to appreciation, it is tough to be a parent.
This year, Richard and I woke up with our best gift snuggled between us. It was a beautiful bright morning and as we looked at Jack--all seven pounds of perfect little human--I marvelled aloud at how we never expected to be here this year.
Richard smiled and hugged us both closer.
"Jack," I said, "what do you think of your family, huh?"
There was a momentary pause and then on cue, Jack went f-art. Ffffaaart. f-art. f-art. f-art.
Like I said...
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