It seems like I’ve been focusing a lot on my sons at the expense of my four amazing daughters. And since it’s Christmas time, I’d like to share with you one of my favorite Christmas stories involving one of my daughters.
As every parent knows, it’s children who create Christmas magic. My husband, my mother, and I would stay up till three or four in the morning assembling and wrapping gifts. That may seem late to you, but keep in mind, we have seven children. And that’s a lot of wrapping paper! Also my husband was not exactly a handy man with tools. He put everything together using a butter knife.
We barely got to sleep when three little people burst into our room ready to open presents. It was my three younger children, Aldo, Debbie and Maria, their ages ranging between two to five years old. The other four kids, the older ones, made up the balance of the sleepy conga line that snaked its way down the stairs, through the living room and into the den where piles of presents awaited them.
Besides who could sleep anyway? I was as excited as they were. After all I had picked the perfect gifts. If there’s one thing I know – it’s my kids. Or so I thought.
In a matter of minutes the floor was waist deep in wrapping paper, boxes and bows. My children were now busy playing with toys or trying on clothes – all except for one. Debbie. She disappeared . We found her sitting in the clothes basket in the dining room. She was not a happy camper.
I was worried. Did I miss something? Did I buy the wrong the wrong thing? Didn’t she like the Mrs. Beasley doll?
It turns out, she did not! She was sure she told Santa she wanted Dressy Bessy.
“You can’t dress Mrs. Beasley,” she cried.
“Oh yes, you can,” I said. “We can dress her plenty if you just get out of the laundry basket!”