The Goose is Getting Fat

I begged, pleaded, whined, cajoled, and everything in between and eventually I wore Tim down. He's one of those "no Christmas decorations or music until after Thanksgiving" kind of people. I, most emphatically, am not. Thanksgiving is a day. Christmas is a season. A season that starts August 1 --ha ha--okay, yeah, that is when I start to fixate on it, but I'm trying to be reasonable in this here blogpost--November 1.

Timothy said we could hang up the stockings precisely one week before Thanksgiving. It was as much as I was going to get so I took it with a smile.

Thursday was exactly one week before Thanksgiving. Timothy had forgotten all about the stocking promise by then, but I reminded him.

Aren't they beautiful against the gold? I just love them.

While Timothy measured and whatnot, I handed the children the new Shleik nativity I got for them. They were enraptured. Even more so when we found their other nativity in the Christmas box.

They're still the hot toy items almost a week later.

Eli with a wiseman.

Cowen's wound (his word) wasn't nearly as dire as the bandage makes it seem, but he was bleeding all over the place and regular bandaids kept falling off. I took drastic measures to protect the carpet.

Timothy only agreed to hanging up the stockings. He did not agree to putting out additional decorations. So I'm not sure how that got onto the computer hutch.

Or how that wound up over the kitchen door.

And, by golly, how did that thing get there? It must have been a Christmas miracle.