This Much Joy

Is it just me or are your children pinging off the walls like an out of control super-ball too? My kids are so wound up that they practically vibrate. And they’re really, really loud—kind of like the way the commercials always send you searching for the mute button on the remote. Only they don’t quiet down. I’ve tried locking them in their rooms with a coveted present from the tree to unwrap and I’ve shoved their mouths full of the holiday treats that keep arriving on our doorstep but nothing works. They’re at maximum volume and maximum speed and I don’t anticipate it changing anytime in the next 36 hours.


Surprisingly, though, they actually seem to be fighting less. I suppose that has something to do with the fact that I threaten to call Santa whenever I hear anything resembling an argument. My son called me on it after I’d threatened for the fifth or sixth time. “You don’t have Santa’s phone number. No one does.” He thrust his hands on his hips and looked up at me defiantly. I said, “All Moms have Santa’s phone number. They give it to you in the hospital when you have your first baby.” His eyes fell and he looked a little less confident than he had a moment ago. I continued, “If Moms didn’t have Santa’s phone number then how would he know where to put you on the Naughty and Nice List?” Now he looked downright sick. I’ve still got it.

I was thinking about how much could be accomplished in this world if we could just harness the power of children waiting for the Big Day. I’ve always believed that solving world hunger is a great, but unattainable wish but I’m pretty sure my two kids could plow and plant a field of corn in under an hour. I’m basing that on the fact that my daughter has made some impressive speeds doing laps around the house today pushing her stroller.

My kids were so excited that they begged me to open one of the presents that they’d purchased for me. I guess anyone opening a present was fun—even if it couldn’t be them. I opened it and found the movie, “Knight & Day.” Perhaps you remember the previews where Tom Cruise is explaining to Cameron Diaz that her chances of survival without him are down here (he puts his hand at the level of his hip) but her chances of survival are up here (he puts his hand at the level of his head) with him. The line continues as he flips his palm up and down, “With me, without me. With me, without me.”

We were heading home tonight after dropping off sugar cookies to friends (I apologize in advance to those unfortunate friends who received the fruits of my attempt to keep the kids busy today. I recognize that chocolate frosting isn’t traditional but it was all I had and, after watching my kids handling the tins of food, there’s probably not much frosting left on the cookies anyway.) My son leaned forward and said, “Dad, guess how much joy we’re going to have this Christmas?” He pushed his palm in the air, “This much with me, and without me. With me and without me.”

It’s sad but true. Christmas wouldn’t be joyful without anxious little faces who truly believe in our ability to delight and amaze them come Christmas morning. It may have cost me a bundle to wrap that much joy and place it under the tree, but when I see their faces I feel like a hero. It feels so good to believe.