Tonight the boys were great at dinner, trying new foods enthusiastically without complaining, staying in their seats, remembering their table manners. This was a shining moment in a week of epically bad behavior, so as a reward, we did something spontaneous. We stuck them in their pajamas, put coats and shoes on them, and piled into the car to go tour the neighborhoods of our town looking for neat Christmas light displays.
We don’t have a lot of Christmas traditions. Generally, we try to keep things relaxed and low key. We of course put up a tree. We usually bake some cookies at some point. We read “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” on Christmas Eve. But I think my favorite tradition is driving the kids around to see the lights.
There’s this one neighborhood—we call it the McMansion neighborhood—that REALLY gets into it. I almost wonder if it’s mandated by their HOA or something, because nearly every house is practically Griswoldian. I’d have pictures for you, but my phone camera’s focusing mechanism couldn’t keep up with the glorious brightness.
And it is, indeed, glorious. We snaked through the cul-de-sacs to the accompaniment of “oohs” and “ahs” coming from the back seat. The 4yo actually stayed awake the entire time, so you know he had to be excited. And the 7yo, who was grumpy when we started out because he thought we were going to a pajama party or something, not just driving around looking at stupid lights, quickly surpassed the rest of us with his enthusiasm.
“Aren’t you glad we did this now?” I asked him.
“Yes! These lights! They’re making me so…so SPECTACUMALARLY JOYFUL!”
And that? Hearing that right there? That made up for the entire rest of the week.