Annual Christmas Round-up

Around three weeks before Christmas, our town has an annual lighting of the Christmas tree in the centre of town.  The event is a fundraiser for our local hospital and draws around 200 people to the old train station for carols, hot chocolate, cookies and wagon rides.  (Note the very grainy evidence above.)  Every year a grade two student is chosen to represent each of the local schools.  That student arrives an hour before the festivities where he and the other "angels"  enjoy lots and lots of sugar and the balloon man, completely unsupervised by parents.  It must be mayhem.  This year Joseph was chosen to represent our little school.  Ben tried to provide evidence as to the wisdom of the school's choice, but his voice went unheard.  He did whisper in my ear during the announcement that each of the angels was chosen because of their caring and giving natures: "Shows how much they know; that's not Joe at all."

I wrangled my good friend Anne-Marie into coming and we found ourselves frozen and perched at the very end of the open-ended wagon on one of the last rides of the evening.  Another good friend, Sheila, took our photo while we balanced her middle child on our laps.  (Thank you, iPhone, for over-documentation of the grainy sort.)  We sort of look like one of those National Geographic photo spreads detailing lives in the coldest towns on earth:  "And here is evidence that the women of this town do enjoy life outside their homes."

Joe, proving worthy of his angelic title; I'll leave you to decided whether my tongue is in my cheek or not.  I did, however, find him the other day in front of the fridge praying a prayer that I have taped to the appliance's front door.  I couldn't resist a picture because of the hockey stick tucked into his right arm.  He tells me that he is going to play in the NHL and make sure not to get married so that, once he retires, he can be a priest.  He neither pays attention at mass nor plays hockey other than in the driveway, so I'm thinking a university degree might be a good idea.  Or perhaps I am in for a pleasant surprise.

I love these photos of the sisters serenely enjoying one another's company.  While they watch TV.  All of the most beautiful photos I have ever taken of the children is when they are mesmerized by the screen.  Thank you, Netflix, for promoting sibling harmony.

Touching.

Slightly out of order, but here is proof that Joe was, in fact, abducted by town officials, drugged with sugar cookies and hot chocolate, and made to don a ridiculous angel costume over his snowsuit.  He looked like a tubby little angel rolling his way to prayer.  Each of the angels was given a wand with which they would "light" the tree.  One of the officials whispered to me that Joe was the first angel to ever lose his wand somewhere on the 20 foot walk from the train station to the tree.

He is fourth from the left, angrily glaring at the tree and ruminating over the ill-fated wand-losing walk.  What, after all, is an angel without a wand, but an oversized animate marshmallow decorated with silver tinsel.

One of the highlights of the pre-Christmas season is the school's annual concert.  An hour of classroom presentations showcasing the de-funding of the arts program in the public school system.  The teachers should be applauded for what they are able to pull together while trying to teach the three Rs.  Hannah was asked to be one of the emcees for the evening.  She was instructed to wear a white top and black bottoms.  Each year the teachers ask my children to wear the standard black and white, or something green or red.  Each year I remember that I have neither.  Thankfully, we were able to reclaim a pair of her pants from her brother's closet and fit her up in one of my sweaters and scarves.  Ben spent a full half hour before the concert removing dog fur from Hannah's pant legs using scotch tape.  Bless his heart.  Hannah spent most of the concert barely tolerating her fellow emcees while arching one of her eyebrows in a look that said, "I'm one step away from taking over this stage."  As my father says, bossiness is clearly hereditary.
I did find something green for Joe to wear, only to discover that every single parent had found something red for their child.  My good friend leaned over and asked, "Did you not get the memo or something?"  Joe decided that he wanted nothing to do with the song anyway and thrust his hands in his pockets while looking around nonchalantly.  Apparently, I was later told, Jacob stage-whispered from the audience, "Joe, sing!  You're disgracing our family name!"

And here is the only other photo that I was able to catch that evening.  This is Isaac's kindergarten class.  Isaac is to be found ninth from the right in the bright red shirt.  At last year's concert, Isaac sat in my lap and cried throughout the entire concert that he wanted to be on the stage.  He finally had his chance this year and found the experience somewhat overwhelming.  He followed his classmates tentatively onto the stage, crossed his arms, searched the audience until he found my face and remained rooted to the spot while fixing his eyes firmly on my own.  His rather spotty school attendance left him both in ignorance of the song and the ability to read.  Thus, the large poster board with its helpful lyrics held directly in front of his face did nothing to aid his ignorance.  Wise child that he is, he remained aloof and passed his illiteracy off as disdain.  Here's to another year.