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Christmas

C and I were discussing Christmas the other night. (Since I have the kids this year, I want to make it special for them.) We made plans for cookie baking for our adopted fire department, constructing gingerbread houses, decorating the tree, a Christmas light drive, etc... all involving ungodly amounts of hot cocoa. I told Caden he could make a request for one "big" present, and he asked for a Lego set of the Millennium Falcon.

"Can you and uncle D and J help me with it, though? Dad doesn't help me. He got me a lot of Legos for my birthday, but he won't help me put them together."

"Of course we'll help you." My heart hurt for him.

"Do we have to have Christmas with Dad this year? I don't like having Christmas with him because he doesn't love Christmas as much as you do, Mom."

"You'll be with me for Christmas this year. I'll do my best to make it awesome for you, okay?"

C nodded happily.

"I'm sorry about your dad, sweetheart. I'm sorry that he doesn't know how to be a good dad."

"It's okay because you're a good mom."

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