I must admit, I thought many times over before typing this post. Christmas truly only exist because of the birth of Christ. However, I just can't help but overlook the image of the manger tonight.....because let's face it, deep down, there is a little bit of me that can not stop thinking about Santa.
Oh ya, Santa. He came to Fox Run (our addition) last night. 8:12 pm, I was rocking Hope to sleep while Emma was having an apple snack before bed. I thought I heard the beating bass of the neighbor boy's car pull around the corner, but as I listened, the sounds seemed musical...and moving slow...and getting louder. Much louder. The "I will always forever be 8 years old" piece of me jumped up out of the chair and hollered at Emma to get outside!
And there he came. Santa, on his big red....FIRETRUCK. Yep that's right folks. The jolly 'Ol St. Nic was wearing his red and fur, jamming to Here Comes Santa Clause and slowing getting escorted by Zionsville finest. Apparently the reindeer must be resting up.
Emma's eyes - huge. Hope's eyes - scared. We run back inside and I tell Emma to get her shoes and coat on so we can catch him on his way back out of the addition. Oh - her anticipation of his coming back through was priceless. Lots of jumping. Lots of giggling.
The flashing lights are headed our way. The music is blaring. Mom is freezing, Hope is clinging on for dear life, Emma is dancing. Believe it or not, but that firetruck stopped right in front of our house so Santa could make twinkling eye contact with both girls. Emma waving like a maniac. And little Hope smiles and gives back a gentle wave. Santa arches his back and give out a loud "Ho Ho Ho" as the truck pulls away.
Don't get me wrong - I love Jesus. And I love his birthday. But I also love 45 seconds of being a kid again. :)