Christmas Morning

I don't scrapbook. I think the last scrapbook I made was after my sister and I spent 10 days in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico at 18 and 21 years old. It's the kind of book that you never want to show your children because then you'll be forced to spew lies such as, "Tequila?! What's tequila? No, silly, that's gold water and that nice man is only helping mommy stay hydrated. The Mexicans use very small glasses. Very small." Come to think of it, we should probably bury the book. Or burn it.

Anyway, my point is that this blog is really meant to scrapbook my kids' lives so that one day there will be proof that their childhoods were actually happy, regardless of what they tell their therapists. And won't the media just love me when they discover the thousands of public pages of pictures and anecdotes about Henry when he runs for President? After all, my graduate school advisor once told me that with a name like Henry Hooper, my son would either be the President of the United States or a serial killer. I gave my son the name anyway. I'm a glass is half-full kind of gal.

All that to say, the next few posts might not excite you that much, unless you're the future President and his little sister's grandparent or aunt (speaking of names, if Henry Hooper is destined to be the President, what in the world might become of Harper Hooper? Oh dear heavens, I think I need some gold water.)

Phew. All better.

Oh right, back to the point. The next few posts will cover Christmas Day 2011. It was by far our most wonderful Christmas to date, and we continue to be crazy overwhelmed by our blessings. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Lord.

Christmas Day began at our house. Just a few gifts under the tree. A couple of items in the stockings. An abundance of life in the Gospel of Luke. And a family who couldn't be more full of joy and gratitude.

It was an absolutely blessed morning.