Yesterday, Mark heard a radio announcer talking about Hanukkah. I explained what Hanukkah is (yes, for you, Kelley!), but didn't get much past the eight nights of gifts.
"Wait, they get presents for EIGHT NIGHTS?" Mark interrupted.
"Yup."
"Well, I'm Jewish," he said.
I looked at him, and said, "I know for a fact you are not Jewish."
"I'm HALF Jewish," he clarified.
"Well, then you get presents for four nights!" I told him.
But when he realized there's no Santa involved in Hanukkah, he sold out his Jewish heritage pretty quickly.
He was still thinking about holidays when he got home, and asked which my favorites were.
"Um, Christmas and Thanksgiving, I guess."
He wrinkled his nose. "Mine are Christmas, Halloween and Easter."
It didn't take a genius to figure out why--two are centered around candy, and one around toys. You can't fault an 8-year-old for thinking in those terms.
He asked why I liked Thanksgiving more than Halloween or Easter, so I told him, "I get two days off work, and I get to spend them with the people I love most--our family and friends."
"Yeah, true," Mark agreed, but he still wasn't sold on it.
He talked about the letter he was writing to Santa, and his wish list. It was the same as last year--he wants a skateboard, iPod, and cell phone (doesn't matter that he has no one to call). Which lead to a little discussion of how Santa makes toys, not electronics, and maybe he should revise his list a bit or he might be really disappointed.
Mark asked what I want for Christmas. I gave the same answer--"To spend time off with my family and friends." I really meant it.
To me, that's the best present ever. A good bottle of wine, a warm cup of coffee, a shared meal--all those are better with family or friends. Watching my son, nieces and nephews tearing open gifts, or running through the house together. Laughing with my sisters-in-law about my family. Laughing with my brothers and parents about the kids. Laughing so hard with my friends that we snort, or the sound disappears altogether, and we hold our stomachs, laughing silently, like mimes.
Holding my friends' new baby boy, and watching him crawl for the first time, or sit up by himself. Catching up with friends I haven't seen in a while, and hearing about their lives over the past few months. Listening to them comment on how tall Mark's gotten, and how big his cousins have all grown, too. Sharing homemade cookies, or coffee cake, or an evening gondola ride and Christmas lights with my favorite people.
That is what I want for Christmas. I can't think of a better way to celebrate the season than spending time with the people I love most.
And that is what I'm giving Mark for Christmas, too--he may not appreciate it as much an iPod, not now anyway. But someday, when he and his cousins are grown and gathering together again; when Christmas Day includes all of their kids, their friends, and their aunts and uncles; when he realizes that a cell phone conversation is not as important as a face-to-face conversation; then, he will appreciate it.
And then he will know that even though his mom is a big sentimental baby, maybe she's right. Maybe there are presents that we already have, that Santa can't bring. And maybe we can be thankful for that every other day of the year, not just at Christmas.
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