Jack has inherited my deeply rooted love of Christmas.
Yes, I know that all almost six year olds freaking love Christmas. It's a temporal wonderland of cookies, special pajamas, staying up late, and Buddy the Elf -- all of which culminates in a visit from Santa and PRESENTS, GLORIOUS PRESENTS!
I get it.
But...I also love Christmas with my whole preppy, sappy, traditional heart. I know the words to the "real" Christmas carols (Good King Wenceslas, natch). There is magic in Christmas. This, I know.
Apparently, Jack knows it, too. He told me that the purpose of the (magnificent) Christmas tree skirt lovingly embroidered by Aunt Kiki was to "protect the floor from the magic in the presents."
I'm not sure what would happen if magic hit my floor, but if it's reminiscent of Saturday Night Fever, thank goodness for the tree skirt.
These deep thoughts came out the other night when we put up the tree.
Of course, to balance out what I believe to be Jack's old soul, he also burst out with this other timeless carol:
Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg
The BatMobile lost its wheel and the Joker did ballet, HEY!
Thank goodness he's keeping it real.
Hope you remember the best lyrics this season.