Have you ever seen that kid?  You know, the one who's covered in bruises and scrapes?  I used to worry when I saw this...and then we had our daughter.
     I know since she's the youngest with three big brothers, she's going to have a bump or two.  It's more than that though.  She looks like a street fighter half the time.  If she's not wrestling around with them, she's chasing after them only to wipe out at full speed.  
     Growing up, my Dad had two nicknames for me - "Grace" and "Ricochet".  "Grace" because I had none - and "Ricochet" because there wasn't a wall or a door that I couldn't bounce off of.  I'm beginning to wonder if this could actually be genetic.   
    Just last night, Lauren was running to the table for dinner.  She slid on the floor and landed face first on her chair.  She was quiet for a second which is either a good thing, or a reeeeally bad thing.  This time it was bad.  Catching her breath, she looked up holding her forehead and exploded with a blood curdling scream.  Scooping her up, I walked around the room with her, trying to coax her to pull her hands down. 
     As a parent, this is when you prepare yourself for what you're about to see.  There's either going to be a little bit of redness, an immediate goose egg, or a whole lot of blood.  Winner, winner chicken dinner - we got the gushing blood flow.          

      The three boys jumped up from the table and started screaming.  This of course made Lauren Elizabeth scream and sob even harder out of fear. 
      It suddenly became the equivalent of trying to hold a cat over water as I fought to hang onto her to see the degree of injury while she struggled to get out of my arms to find a mirror.       With blood running down her face, Lauren and the boys were freaking out, I was freaking out, all while trying to get her to sit still long enough to finally find a tiny little cut right in her eyebrow.  How can one small cut produce so much blood?  I think it's one of nature's jokes on parenthood.
     Needless to say.  She'll go to Preschool today with a busted eye, a scratch across her throat from a wrestling match with her six year old brother, her scrapes on her arms and legs from I don't even know what...walking and chewing gum maybe...and that's how she'll roll.
     All I really want to do, is teach her to say, "What happens in fight club, stays in fight club".  Adam doesn't think that's a good idea though. 
     I guess I'll just have to start calling her "Grace".
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     Editor's note:  This is from last year.  It's one of my favorites.   
     The whistle blew.  Four little noses pressed against the car window as the kids screamed..."Look at the TRAIN!"  Adam and I gave each other a grin of excitement and gathered them in their pajamas to hurry out through the cold air. 
    Boarding the train, we were welcomed with the warm scent of hot chocolate and cookies.  Tables were arranged with baskets of goodies and glowing candles.  Taking their seats, the whistle blew again and we were off.  
     The Conductor appeared asking for tickets.  Little eyes watched in awe as he punched away with his clicker.  Music was playing as the rhythm of the smooth glide of the train started to become more familiar.  It soothingly rocked back and forth as we passed trees and rivers under the moon lit night.
    Waiters arrived and began to dance down the aisle with cups of hot chocolate.  The cream was so thick on top - you could eat it with a spoon.
     As little bellies began to fill with goodies and drink, it was time to read "The Polar Express".  The train became quiet as the children followed with their books and the magical story came to life. 
    When the reading was over, the train slowed.  A glow of lights appeared outside as everyone shuffled to the windows to see.  Santa himself stood waving as little mouths dropped in amazement.  He walked toward the train making everyone wonder if he would come on board.      
    Hearing the sound of the whistle, the train shifted directions and slowly started to push back the way we came.  "Did we miss him?  Will he know we're here?"  Our five year old questioned.  All eyes were to the front of the train car as suddenly, he appeared. 
     Santa greeted each child and took time to give them the first gift of Christmas - a shiny bell tied with a red ribbon.  The train car filled with the song of bells ringing as the smiles and wonder filled the air.  
      All of the children sang Christmas Carols on the journey back as they each held their bells tightly. 
    Waking up this morning, it seemed like a dream.  The kids held their bells making us wonder if they would ever let them go.  
    No matter when that might be, I hope they will always hear the sound that rings from within...and Believe in the magic of Christmas.      

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