Our grand daughter's Sunday school teacher took me aside Sunday evening at the music concert at our church and told me how much she enjoyed having our middle grand daughter in her class. She said she was the only child in her class that knew what the nativity was. She said she told her about the one at Grandmas, referring to the children's set on the bookcase in the hallway. I was a little surprised she remembered our role play with the child's nativity set from last year. We've talked about Jesus's birth this year but we've not played with their set yet. We will begin tonight and each evening before bed we will act out the story. It has become a tradition.
You can imagine how pleased I was that she remembered what the true meaning of the season was. But then I recalled that last season she was the one that insisted that the donkey, after taking Mary to the stable, go after the shepherds giving each shepherd a ride to the stable to see baby Jesus.
I asked our grand daughter's teacher if she called it an activity set? She looked surprised and laughed and said yes. "Yep, that's our girl." I replied. Now I'm really looking forward to tonight to hear the story from our grand daughters.
We did make a trip to see Santa at the church's Christmas party. 
The oldest grand child informed her sister that it wasn't really Santa. Panic rushed through me. How was I going to fix this blurb. It was my cousin that informed me there wasn't a Santa. I was heart broken for weeks, not yet ready to give up the belief. As magical as Santa is, I didn't want her to become a non believer. Then I thought maybe she just didn't believe that this was Santa. Not that there wasn't a Santa. Sure enough, that was the problem. That's why she insisted that she would not sit on his lap. Santa having had six children of his own and many grand children coaxed her to take a stocking full of goodies. Knowing our extremely analytical grand daughter she probably noticed the string holding on the beard and that each Santa she sees looks a bit different. She's a smart little whip.
So I told her that these were Santa's representatives and they reported back to the real Santa at the North Pole who was busy getting ready for Christmas. That fixed the problem. And when they are ready to stop believing in Santa, I'll do just what we did with our children. We'll talk about Santa being a part of the spirit of Christmas and how he helps us to be more giving. They will then get to take part in becoming Santa Claus, filling stockings and helping to choose presents from him to their siblings; along with dropping off gifts to others on their doorsteps, ringing the bell, and running to hide. Our kid's said that being Santa was more fun than when they just received his gifts. 
If your wondering if the black on our youngest grand daughter's face is chocolate, it's not.
Her mom got off from work early enough to stop by sharing a little of her dirt. Our daughter's job is power washing the coal mining equipment at several of the local coal mines. It leaves her greasy and black from the dust. This is a somewhat cleaned up pictures of her. She's been mistaken more than once at work on a particularly dirty job for one of her co-workers who's from Africa. They are very dark skinned before they begin crawling around in the black grease and coal dust.
Best go and make breakfast and then I hope to blog later about the goats. Romance is in the air, kind of.
The oldest grand child informed her sister that it wasn't really Santa. Panic rushed through me. How was I going to fix this blurb. It was my cousin that informed me there wasn't a Santa. I was heart broken for weeks, not yet ready to give up the belief. As magical as Santa is, I didn't want her to become a non believer. Then I thought maybe she just didn't believe that this was Santa. Not that there wasn't a Santa. Sure enough, that was the problem. That's why she insisted that she would not sit on his lap. Santa having had six children of his own and many grand children coaxed her to take a stocking full of goodies. Knowing our extremely analytical grand daughter she probably noticed the string holding on the beard and that each Santa she sees looks a bit different. She's a smart little whip.So I told her that these were Santa's representatives and they reported back to the real Santa at the North Pole who was busy getting ready for Christmas. That fixed the problem. And when they are ready to stop believing in Santa, I'll do just what we did with our children. We'll talk about Santa being a part of the spirit of Christmas and how he helps us to be more giving. They will then get to take part in becoming Santa Claus, filling stockings and helping to choose presents from him to their siblings; along with dropping off gifts to others on their doorsteps, ringing the bell, and running to hide. Our kid's said that being Santa was more fun than when they just received his gifts. If your wondering if the black on our youngest grand daughter's face is chocolate, it's not.Her mom got off from work early enough to stop by sharing a little of her dirt. Our daughter's job is power washing the coal mining equipment at several of the local coal mines. It leaves her greasy and black from the dust. This is a somewhat cleaned up pictures of her. She's been mistaken more than once at work on a particularly dirty job for one of her co-workers who's from Africa. They are very dark skinned before they begin crawling around in the black grease and coal dust.Best go and make breakfast and then I hope to blog later about the goats. Romance is in the air, kind of.
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