Begin Another Christmas Season
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Another bitterly cold day, with the sun still out.
Collette woke up to find that the hot water was not working again, but this time a flip of the switch would not remedy the situation. So there was no shower.
Collette had difficulty concentrating on the sermon that morning – for no reason in particular.
The church was festooned in pine swags, wreaths, red tapers, and a great lighted Christmas tree in the corner of the sanctuary.
After lunch, back at the house, OLeif almost fell asleep on the couch, Joe did take a nap (looking peculiarly pale that morning), Carrie was at work, Mom and Dad took naps, and Frances and Linnea played out in the snow.
Shortly later Linnea returned, trying to keep back the tears.
“Trooper took my hat and chewed it up,” she sniffed. “He took it off my head.”
The beastly mongrel later returned to the back patio, waiting to be let inside. Collette considered letting him stand out there for awhile, but did let him back in as badly as he smelled from running in the outdoors.
Meanwhile, Mom baked chocolate chip peanut butter oatmeal cookies for the Christmas program that evening while OLeif and Collette took off to dig their car out of the ice in front of the Silverspoon’s. (They had been using Curly’s car for several days in the hopes of turning in the Honda for fan repairs – this was before the ice storm had hit). After Theodore and Curly joined them with shovels and scrapers, the car was released from its snowy cocoon.
Church that night brought the younglings and the adult choir together for carols and chrismons and OLeif played violin.
Cookies and punch were set out for the reception. And despite the obliging performances of the children, the aftermath was the usual chaos – more than one spilled glass of pink or green sherbet punch colored the carpet that evening. But this was typical, and to be expected.
A ring of small girls sat on the floor daintily toasting one another with full glasses.
“Cheers, cheers,” they said softly and importantly.
And once the other kids had been herded off the stairs, again, though they had been told numerous times to keep off the staircase, some of them scattered into the night and the slick sidewalks out front. (One youngster even tried to climb over the banister after Collette had removed him from the stairs).
Collette tapped him on the shoulder, “Kid, don’t kill yourself.”
And he finally gave up. Collette could not decide which might be worse from their parents’ point of view – for the kid to trip down the stairs and land in a heap at the bottom, or to slip on the ice outside and take a crack to the head, seeing as the kids seemed determined to do one or the other. But there was nothing more to do but monitor the staircase. Kids would inevitably find trouble wherever they went, and at least a few tumbles down the stairs might be prevented if she stood there and watched things.
Despite it all, Collette felt mean for having to do it in the first place.