This, people, is progress.
There was a time when his quip would have fallen flat and left me feeling slighted. I might have adopted a cool, slightly holier-than-thou countenance, and Dave might have scratched his head for a few days.
These days? Not so much.
In part, this is because I actually don't want much for Christmas this year. I have a lot, certainly all I need and a great deal of what I want. I had a growing sense of this before the events of last Friday, and it's even more pronounced in the wake of the awfulness.
I also feel this way because some of the things I really do want weren't advertised as Black Friday specials and can't be found on Amazon.
Here's All I Want for Christmas:
1. I want the deep, consoling prayer life that I experienced ten years ago, the kind that seems to elude me today.
2. I want all the fruits of the Spirit -- love, peace, patience, joy, goodness, kindness, humility, and self-control. And, by the way, I want them now.
3. I want to be the kind of mother I always pictured myself being. Can I trade in the grouchy model who shows up all too frequently at our house?
4. I want to be a better wife who, among other improvements, laughs more, who wears jeans a little less often and mascara a little more often, who gives more back rubs and offers fewer complaints.
5. I want to go on a week-long cruise, just my husband and me. Or maybe a hiking trip. Or a canoeing trip. Or maybe all three.
6. I want to get this body of mine in shape.
7. I want to love my neighbor as myself and be w-a-y more long-suffering with people who manage to irritate the fire out of me.
8. I want to start going to weekday Mass again.
In the meantime, I plan to tidy up a few loose ends tomorrow. My To Do List includes:
1. Buying a roll of Justin Bieber wrapping paper. With a dozen young men and boys to buy for, how can I resist?
2. Checking the weather forecast. Some people are predicting this:
I am hoping for this:
3. Finally, I'll invest a little time checking Facebook and You Tube for footage of my daughter in this morning's Christmas Sing. There she stood, my blonde-haired, blue-eyed darling -- smiling, singing, and pulling her dress right over her head. Can you say Wardrobe Malfunction? Honestly.