Naughty? Nice!

The blizzard that could have given us a white Christmas came two days late. The night before last the snow fell and the wind howled through every drafty window. We were quite stuck in the house. My wife didn't get to her shift at the airport for the first time in 15 years.

We had a good day together, bound to our little house. It was an especially good day for a Boy who found an overlooked Christmas present for the second day in a row.

By the time evening came, it was decent enough to go outside to do some shovelling. We have a finicky steet light at the end of our driveway. It somehow turns itself off every three minutes or so and the driveway is dark for about a minute before the light decides to come back on. I used this timing to good advantage, resting in the dark and throwing snow in the light. It took about an hour before the driveway was finally clear. As I was about halfway up the walkway, I heard the plow coming. With gritted teeth, I went back to wait for it at the end of the driveway, leaning on the snow shovel, glaring at the plow as it pushed in a fresh drift of snow.

I cleared out the new drift and went inside, peeled off my wet ski suit hat and gloves and got to washing up the dirty dishes. Our dishwasher was full, but the box of powder was empty. I told the Boy, this was the old fashioned way of doing the dishes.

As I was finishing up, I heard the plow go by again.

The air rang blue with curses.

This morning was the day to finally get out of the house and do some chores. It started with more snow shovelling. The Boy and I worked together. It was good work. The air was crisp, the sky a deep blue, the day fresh and coated a brilliant white. We found the black of our driveway and then off we went to the shops to get some groceries, exchange a present and scout for deals. Near the end of it all, as I pushed the Boy and the cart down the aisle with the dishwasher powder and the cat food, a question came out of that clear blue sky:

Boy: Daddy, did you get all you wanted for Christmas?
Me: Well, mostly, I guess. Not quite everything.
Boy: Oh. I guess you weren't good enough.