I’ve told this story before. If you’ve heard it, I apologize for repeating myself. This is one of my favorite holiday stories.
When my oldest daughter was almost 3, we read Dr. Seuss’s “How The Grinch Stole Christmas.”
It’s a lovely tale and in a weird way I identify a lot with The Grinch. (Long story and you can’t just open the book of my life and jump in the middle as someone once said.)
She’d curl up beside me and I’d read: “Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot….”
And I’d do different intonations for the different voices. I’m particularly proud of the way I read “And they’re hanging their stockings!” he snarled with a sneer. “Tomorrow is Christmas it’s practically here!”
She’d follow as The Grinch unveils his plans to ruin the Christmas of the Whos (sort of like Bill O’Reilly and his ilk today).
He disguises himself as Santa and his dog as a reindeer.
And he steals into the Whos homes and takes everything leaving only the hooks and wires on the bare walls.
But to his surprise the Whos remain happy despite the loss of the presents and trees and trimmings and trappings.
As he says, he hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming, it came just the same.
So on Christmas morning when my oldest was almost three, we woke just ahead of her.
She first ran to the kitchen table and looked at the evidence of Santa’s visitation: the cookie crumbs on the plate and the empty milk glass and the missing carrots.
Then she ran down the hall into the living room. Ms. Carnacki, pregnant with our second child, and I beamed because our daughter had been so wide eyed and excited at the thought that Santa himself had been in our home. She ran into the living room and saw the presents under the tree and we expected her to dive into them.
But she didn’t. She held up her little hand and she said: “Stop. Let’s pretend. Let’s pretend The Grinch has been here and took everything and left just hooks and wires and we’d still be happy.”
So we stopped. And like The Grinch my heart grew three sizes that day.
That’s my happy story this evening. Your happy story might be anything you want to share.
“All I need is a reindeer…’
I dunno, C. Somehow, I think of you more as a Cindy Lou kind of person than as the Grinch.
You should have met the old me.
If you’re referring to the old you that could read type upside-down and backwards, that worked in the most stressful job field other than firefighting, and that bled black ink, then, yeah, probably a certain aura of Grinchiness was appropriate.
My happy story: Carnacki is back and posting regularly.
Thanks!
Great story, Carnacki. The Grinch is a great story, but I liked it less after the TV version came out, because kids stopped knowing the book. I love the Seuss that’s not so well known, too, like the 500 hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, or To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street.
My happy story? My spouse does not have a pulmonary embolism, as we thought he did (nor several other dire things). I can stop staying up all night worrying. . .
That is a happy story!
Ahh…the fullfillment of Fatherhood.
Believe me, I can relate.
My daughter Allie, who’s 12, still believes :o)
We always find cookie crumbs and milk glasses half full on Christmas morning and she still goes to see them first. But the very best Christmas was when she found boot prints in the ashes on the floor in front of the fireplace. The look on her face as she puzzled in wonderment over this has remained etched indelibly in my book of treasured memories.
We stiil haven’t figured out how Santa fits down the chimney ;o)
Peace
They’d tell you it’s the “magic fairy dust”. 😉 (Wonder if “Santa Claus and His Old Lady” is over at iTunes…)
Been having a little trouble getting into the holiday spirit — I think finally tracked it down to it being the first Christmas without Mom. 🙁 But this story gave me a very large smile, Carnacki…thank you very much. 🙂
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been pouring over Coming of Age ceremonies for my daughter. Not being particularly thrilled with any one of them, I combined elements of three and wrote my own ceremony. On Thursday night, under a full moon, we performed the ceremony and welcomed my daughter to the tribe of women.
It was a beautiful ritual and it couldn’t have come at a better time. My daughter has been having lots of personal issues and having a ritual with her as the center of attention was just what she needed, let alone one which recognizes that she is growing up and changing.
Her favorite part was the warm bath with fresh rose petals, and an infusion of rose and jasmine oil. Very lovely.