(Disclaimer: I always aim to commemorate every 25th, but in the midst of holiday celebrating and traveling, I didn’t post this to you on time, HD. I love you six days more as a result;)

Henry David,

It’s Christmas Day and you are dressed in little red pajamas with petite Christmas light bulbs scattered all over your pants. Your shirt made you take three steps back in excitement when you opened it up this morning: all red with a bright orange pickup truck toting a gigantic, lit up Christmas tree in the back. You love pickup trucks, and I love you. You can be confident that this is true, because I would never have fathomed buying you pickup truck pajamas for Christmas otherwise. Somehow, you make them darling, as you do with most things.

This time last year, you were a mere eight months old and wearing your first Christmas jammies: red and white velour stripes with a reindeer on the behind. In my heart it was the best Christmas ever–our first Christmas with you, your aunt and uncle visiting, all of us tucked warmly into the little blue house and celebrating so much love…

And then this year rolled around. It’s true it’s not the same without Auntie B, Uncle Teddy and your sweet cousin Emmelia here, but it’s equally as good in a different way. (Doesn’t hurt that we’ll get to see them in a mere TWO days!) We’re celebrating Christmas somewhat quietly, with Grammy Susan visiting, our usual brunch and dinner on the menu, and a mostly modest exchange of gifts that we’ve hoped will delight you (and one another). We barricaded you from the living room this morning so we could all go in together–daddy with the camera rolling to capture your little face as you noticed the presents waiting. Your big gift from us this year is a play kitchen. I am probably the most excited of all about this particular gift…so much of our world is cars and trucks and things that go, and I just know you’ll grow into your imagination as you create and cook and bake us through the coming winter months at home. In true Henry fashion, you’ve already declared the oven a garage for your newest matchbox cars, and I’m good with that. At twenty months old (today!) you’re a stinking riot to watch.

When you discovered the pile of gifts this morning your shouted, “robot!” as you ran towards the stuffed character we’ve been eyeing for weeks at the toy store. It took you mere seconds to come up with a name for him (“Moses!”) and to declare yourselves fast friends. It is a joy to see you come into your own, and to discover that your opinions are pronounced, decided, consistent. In moments like these, we best realize that your busy mind never stops–you are always processing something, and certainly soaking everything in. We consider it sheer luck to have landed you, not-so-little one. As your parents, we get as much out of loving you as we possibly could out of any other endeavor.

I don’t know whether this will be a Christmas you remember, or if it might be one that’s tucked into the hazy recesses of your toddler years. If you do remember it, I trust you’ll recall all of the fun we had–cozying up in the house, munching on Christmas cookies, and watching The Snowman before tucking you in for a nap. And if not, well, we’ll certainly remember it…the way you stayed in your jammies and played and played for hours with all of your new things, the way you loved the washcloth I pulled out of the kitchen drawer just as much as all of your wrapped up gifts, the way we prayed over Christmas dinner and talked about baby Jesus while the music played quietly and the candles burned bright.

So this is Christmas, my little love. Baby Jesus has been born in a stable and He is lighting up every corner of the world. Mary and Joseph take Him in in wonder, pondering the Miracle of His coming and not yet knowing the impact of His presence here on earth. Watching you, I understand this sense of marvel–this reverence for the unknown and the beauty of it all in the making. You are filling up our own little Bethlehem on this Christmas night, warming a space in our hearts that means more than we could comprehend, bringing joy and hope to our corner of the world.

praying you’ll always know, deep in your heart, the reason for all of this holiday pomp and circumstance.

love you forever,
your mama