National Lampoon’s Christmas is one of my all time favorite movies. This happens to be the time of year it gets shown on cable daily and I WILL watch it every single time I come across it in channel surfing. So much for finishing Christmas crafts….
But this isn’t a post about my movie watching habits, it’s a post about Christmas light displays.
Last Friday, I came home from work and asked Hillary if she would be interested in driving around and looking at Christmas lights. The look on her face was like Christmas, Easter and her birthday all balled up into one. You could have bottled up her excitement and sold it. I think she needs to get out more.
Driving anywhere with her these days is nearly impossible. She shouts, loudly, “Mommy, look at that!!” “Ohhhh, look at that!!” And she points. Like I can see where she is pointing. Instead of going through the lecture telling her I cannot see where she is pointing, not today or ever, I offer pretend encouragement. “Ooooh, wow, look at that,” and “That’s really pretty,” and “Whoa-ho!” (I’m so clever.) Then I hope and pray she doesn’t start asking questions, and a person has to have a STRONG faith that God performs small miracles when it comes to inquisitive 4 year olds.
We all piled into the Jeep and after grocery shopping, we checked out the neighborhoods between the store and our house.
And Moby’s like, “Would you look at that! We should get something like that. I saw something like that in the Big Lots ad. Check those out, we could put those–”
–Up your rear end, dear.
Sorry, I don’t do Christmas lights. I DO drive around and enjoy the light displays of others who have seemingly unending amounts of storage space and, clearly, nerves of steel to deal with all those little burnt out lights and heights on ladders and wayward tree branches and whatnot. Why own a single decoration outside the tree when so many others can do it for me? All the enjoyment, zero stress. Win-win, don’t you think?
Just for fun, here’s our Christmas tree this year. It looks like this almost every year.