Everybody Drop

If anyone knocked on our front door right now, I’d yell “Everybody drop!”, and beg them to stay like that for the next five minutes. Nobody’s home! Nothing to see here! totally being the message I’d hope to send.

Our home is dealing with the aftermath of a great, big weekend, and floor space can only be seen through a microscope at the moment. Broken potato chips trodden into rugs, books spilling across couches, plates overflowing from sinks, pencils and half-finished sheets of  Christmas colouring-in pages strewn across floors — they all tell the story of late nights, long days and a whole heap of Life. And we’re going to linger in the mess a little while longer because that’s just how we roll. Besides, it feels kind of cozy.



We held our Annual Secret Santa party with friends over the weekend. Champagne was popped and music was turned up and kids spilled from every corner of our home, including two teeny tiny newborn baby boys who I could have cried over if I let myself. Pure, angelic and totally heart-melting, they were. And the sweetest reminder of what is about to land into our waiting arms. We fed kids who weren’t ours, we picked up crying babies who weren’t ours and we returned stolen drink bottles to kids who weren’t ours, because we know that there’s no such thing as Ours and Theirs. Everybody belongs to everybody else in this friendship circle, and that feels so unbelievably good.



Ella is growing to an age of complete involvement. She runs to the teeny babies, crouches down and stares at them, stroking their hair and wanting to kiss them. She helps rocks them and looks at me and says, “Baby!” like it’s the best thing ever in all of the world. She wants to help me set the Christmas table. She has an opinion on what it is exactly she wants to wear. She walks around the house all morning saying Party! Ella party! like she knows exactly what’s going on, which is to say that everybody is coming over just to see her. So we say, “Yes! You’re having a party, sweetie! Everyone’s coming over to cuddle you and kiss you and play with you!” and she smiles and walks off, satisfied with my answer.





The weekend rolled on with more moments now stored in my Happy Memories file – sunset Christmas light walks through our neighbourhood, Christmas movie nights – taking our current December tally up to five – and cardboard-box sledding down near the pier. And by cardboard-box sledding, I mean that the box lay discarded on top of the hill, and instead we ran down and crawled back up because Mum, I’m so not getting in that thing and flinging myself down a steep hill. 







Afterwards, we explored under the pier, which was totally more fun that cardboard-box sledding could ever be, anyway.













We walked home under the night sky, pointing out stars and following the moon’s glow, and I held her tight against me as I walked, savouring these last few weeks of her being the only one.




Also, our first ever Christmas card. A tradition I loved doing.



This virtual one’s for you.

Wishing you a merry day.


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