Merry Christmas my beautiful boy,
At three you seem to be the perfect age for Christmas. Or "gris-gris" as you so happily pronounce it. You understand so much more this year and have been relishing all the signs of the season. Particularly the Christmas lights, chanting "more, more lights" as we walk through streets lit up, or drive past houses unexpectedly decked out in their lights. You're fascinated with, though still weary of, Santa. Leaving out biscuits and milk for Santa and a carrot for his reindeer was one of Christmas Eve's highlights for you, the other being the Muppet's Christmas Carol. Come Christmas morning the first thing you did was check the glass and plate and declare excitedly "Santa biscuits gone!", ignoring your gifts to marvel at this eventuality instead.
We were all spoilt Christmas day with family, food and gifts. You were delightful to watch. Your excitement was contagious. There is nothing quite as sweet and amusing as watching a three year old tackle the task of unwrapping his presents, and a few of mine. Giving out kisses and thank yous in return, proudly displaying your new toys. You are now well stocked in Lego and books, a balance bike and art supplies, remote controlled car and a dinosaur egg (which is submerged in water as I write, a dinosaur slowly cracking it's way through the shell under your watchful and curious eye.)
My dear boy, what a wonderful Christmas it was. Traditions were honored and new traditions created. Next year we will be celebrating as a family of four and I can't think of anything better.
All my love,