i was stirring my giant mug of coffee this morning when the saddest little face rounded the corner to the kitchen. it's the earliest any of us have been up in two weeks, the sun *barely* peeking out enough to light the sky, and it is cold C-O-L-D cold out there.
"oh, come here, sweetie", i said and i wrapped my arms around him. "it'll be really nice to get back and see your friends and hear about everyone's holiday, right?" and before i knew it, he started to cry. he's almost 9, and he doesn't cry so much anymore. i know part of it was because it was early and his little system was kind of rocked by the harsh reality of being up and dressed. but i think he was a little bit heartbroken too... all that magic and wonder of christmas just went poof. like waking up from a good dream or something.
so we'll ease back into our old schedule. and that fort that he's been sleeping under? we're leaving it up for another night or two. twinkly lights and all.