Everything I was planning this past week pretty much went up in smoke when half of our family came down with strep throat or the flu--my husband and myself included. It's been an interesting week to say the least, and as I've been juggling and rearranging items on my list to fit this unexpected and unfortunate timing of events, something else happened that caused me to really reflect on what Christmas means to me.
A few weeks ago I ordered what I planned to be my little boys' main present, and was excited about getting free shipping, since it was very heavy, and would have been a fortune. It was ground shipping, but guaranteed to get here in plenty of time for Christmas. It arrived when I wasn't home last Friday, and it was taken to our "super-secret-hiding-place" to wait until Christmas Eve, when Rick and I hold our annual preset wrapping party. I didn't even see the boxes, but assumed since they arrived, we were good to go.
On Sunday night we managed to load all the kids in the car and go look at Christmas lights, because it was something we could do without leaving the car, and we could enjoy a little bit of the season even while we weren't feeling well. One the way home, the kids had fallen asleep, and so we took the opportunity to talk a little about our plan for wrapping. The topic of the boys' present came up, and Rick happened to ask me why I bought that particular present for the boys. It was discovered that the completely wrong item was sent to us, and I was just finding this out on the night of December 22nd.
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