Our long holiday weekend is drawing to a close. We have celebrated, we have snacked, we have ripped open packages, we have played and played and played.
No matter how much they want to deny it, the little people (and big ones too) are tired. So many late nights, so much sugar... and as much as we've enjoyed the festivities, it will be nice to get back into a bit of a routine tomorrow.
Since waking on Christmas morning and finding (much to their great surprise?) that Santa had stopped and left a few goodies, the little people have been lost in their own individual worlds of play. My living room... and sunroom... are covered with legos and toys. It makes me twitchy to have stuff all over, but no matter how I try to tidy up, there is always a little person following behind me pulling things out again. As much as it pains me to admit defeat... I think it's best to leave the pieces and parts where they are and try cleaning up another day.
Although Christmas is behind us, we're still not ready to let it go. Benett and I tried to remember all of the days of Christmas tonight at bedtime. We did pretty good until we got to eight... we couldn't recall if it was Lords a-leaping or Maids a-milking... so we decided that seven swans a-swimming was enough for us. That's the kind of thing I'll miss when we get into January and it's no longer acceptable to sing carols at bedtime.
We have a few days left in December... maybe we'll figure it out yet and get all the way to 12. And if not, we'll have a great time trying.