Recipe for fun:
A fun daddy who takes us to the tree lot {a.k.a. Home Depot}. Picks out the tree. 
Gets it in the car and home and in the house and in the tree stand. Trims the tree to the perfect shape. Fixes the lights that aren't working. Gets the cassette tape of "Cozy Christmas" playing. All the while sporting a great attitude.
Now THAT, my friends, is an ideal hubby. {And he's cute, too.} 
Maddie's starting to get the tradition piece of Christmas. She remembers what she gets to do. 
Setting up the Nativity scene.
She knows the music that goes along with putting up our tree, and hums along as it's played. 
She's old enough to be a productive helper. And she even stopped part way through the evening to write in her diary and this is what she wrote: "This is the funnest day ever!" 
And Jackson, he was just in his own little happy world. Playing with his 'advent box', which he affectionately called his puzzle. 
And he loved putting the balls on the tree. 
All in the same spot. 
But I love that. And I'm gonna leave them that way, because I'm pretty sure in about 25 years I'll give anything to have my kids little again, and I won't care one iota if the balls are all in the same spot. I'll just want them home.
Jackson got to put the star on the tree. Mainly by size default.
We read a Christmas story prior to bed, and Jackson put on his 'reading glasses.' I guess he figures if Grandpa needs them, he must too. 
And now we sit by the tree. Cozy and warm. And sparkly. And restful. Tradition drags comfort along with it, and for that I am thankful. 
Oh, and have I mentioned lately how much I love my new curtains?
