That's Ben's 2-year-old pronunciation of "Joy to the World" which he loves listening to on a children's Christmas CD. I put it on repeat until I can't stand it any longer.
Here's Christmas around our house. . .
Baking gingerbread cookies
with the children. The only batch of Christmas cookies at our house this year.
Genevieve figured out how to make snowflakes by herself. Her method involves colored paper and tape.
Then we hung some white snowflakes on our Christmas card garland. Give me a better idea for pinning up the single-side cards. I'm sure there's something prettier than black binder clips.
The stockings are hung and now bursting since I snapped the photo.
We like to go to a funny little tree farm and cut our own tree. This year, my husband announced we were getting a tree to suit our tall Victorian ceilings - I said dumb things like how is this going to fit in our little Nissan, I don't have enough lights, and are you crazy. He prevailed.
It's an eight footer, bought for a suitably thrifty price of $28, probably because it's not proportionally fat. I cut branches out of the back where the tree stands against the wall, and used the branches to decorate.
Two stockings I made for my mother to fill for the children at her house. Ben is telling me there's no stuff in his stocking. Genevieve is being tolerant and amused in a very adult way.
That was my to-do list for our Christmas season:
1. cut tree; decorate tree, eggnog
2. set up manger scene
3. hang and fill stockings
4. gifts (it got more detailed here with names and ideas)
5. make gingerbread cookies with the children
6. Christmas caroling
7. decorate porch with greens
Anything else Christmas-y that happened around here was gravy. I don't want to hate this season or allow our family to be overwhelmed and busy. Even with this short list, I still felt breathless most of December. Ha. I'm writing as if December and Christmas are over, when it's only that I've crossed off all the items on my list and I'm ready to start savoring all the joy. . .you know, the joy that comes to the weird.