The Ghosts Of Christmas Presents (Part One)

L’s first Christmas was great for all concerned, let me make that clear up front.  The boy got enough presents (supplied primarily, but not exclusively, by Grandparents) that it looked like a Christmas bomb exploded in our living room.  Even several days later with the wrapping paper and boxes largely taken care of, a small cadre of  playthings still haunt the area while they await a more appropriate resting place.

I take none of this for granted.

This is the point where other people would likely start to wax maudlin about how “lucky” they were, and while it is true that luck played its much appreciated part, foresight and planning deserve equal shares of the credit.   Because when observed in hindsight, without the luck, the foresight and planning wouldn’t have been enough any more than the luck would have carried Christmas without the help of the foresight and planning.  It was truly a joy to watch how all the factors cooperated in making it a special Christmas for L.  It was so much fun to watch, in fact, that I feel the need to borrow a phrase:

“I love it when a plan comes together.”




Which is what makes it such a pity that nothing in the plan prepared me for the unexpected four digit, no decimal point, hospital bill that arrived on Christmas Eve.

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