The snow came indeed, and the huge flakes falling from the sky increased the beauty of the season, making me truly understand why people dream about a White Christmas. Everything glowed with the snow, and Drew and Dylan were anxious to build a wonderful snowman.
We bundled up in our warmest clothes, preparing for the cold wind and deep snow. Dylan loves to play outside, and he doesn't care whether it is warm or bitterly cold. The snow was so unmarred by human hands and boots, and he jumped in with eagerness and joy. After learning about snow angels and sleds, Drew attempted to form a snowman to show Santa where to make a stop that evening.
As my Sunday was flying by, and the time for me to return to work was becoming more of a reality, I fondly tried to remember each moment of the weekend. I honestly have never been more content and happy for as long as I was this weekend - and I know I wasn't the only one. Being with my family truly was the best gift that Santa, I mean God, could have given me this year. We are so incredibly blessed, and this weekend stuck in the snow gave me plenty of time to notice, remember, and be grateful for all of those blessings.
Once Dylan was chilled to the bone and done playing in the snow, it was time to prepare for Grammie and Grampie to come and celebrate Christmas Eve with us. He was so excited for them to arrive, not just because presents and food were coming with them, but because he loves them and loves to play with them. Once they had left for the evening, he tearfully went to the window, crying for them to "come back soon"! We enjoyed our time with them, taking in as many hugs and loves as we possibly could. Mom made a wonderful meal, and we ate while laughing and conversing.
After nap, it was finally time to prepare for Santa. Dylan was preparing for him in his mind for weeks and weeks, but now was nitty gritty time. He and I made special cookies, which he proudly placed on a Santa plate, next to a cup of milk and a carrot for the special reindeer.
Christmas morning brought many smiles and laughs, and Drew and I watched Dylan's wonder and amazement at all of the gifts that Santa had left him during his slumber. Watching him made me wonder where my innocence went - when did I stop "believing"? I was quickly reminded of the fateful day in 3rd grade when Justin someone told me that Santa wasn't real, and I came home and waded in a puddle of my own tears, willing my mom to tell me that he was wrong. I said a special prayer as Dylan was tearing the wrapping paper - "Please God, let them be little as long as possible - keep my babies believing. I see and realize the wonder of life only through their eyes."