Twas the night before Christmas, one that almost didn’t happen.

2 was more difficult than 1.  3 was more difficult than 2.  4 was difficult, but a lot like 3, so we got used to handling it.  5?  5 may be the worst yet.

Will was really really rough today.  REALLY ROUGH.

He called me a bad name and had some time to think in his room.  Paul explained that he needed to write an apology letter to me and Santa.  He stared one, cried tears of remorse, and turned into the perfect lovey guy… even going with Paul to The Bead Shop to make me a present with his jewelry buddy, Ms. Georgia.

Then something happened and all the magic was gone.  He was back in his room.

This time, he got right to work on his apologies.  He finished the first (above) and moved on to a second and then a third.  Maybe he needed the time to work through some stuff.

We were beginning to think that everything was going to be okay.

Then Paul discovered that some of his thank you landed on his bed.  We were dumbfounded.

When I asked Will why he wrote on the bed, huge alligator tears began to roll down his cheeks.  “I don’t know,” he said, and I knew he was telling the truth.  He had no idea why he did it, why the irrestible urge came over him, and what made him carry through with it.  Maybe it’s similar to why I cannot resist singing along to the song “Word Up” whenever I hear it, irregardless of the situation (but really, who can resist that?) and Paul’s inability to resist making terrible puns in the most serious of conversations (“what should our wedding song be?” “how about What’ll You Do for Money, Honey?”)  Some things just can’t be refused.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, be angry, or just give him a hug.  I sort of felt like doing all three.

So we settled for him eating dinner.  When he was done, he sassed Paul and we were back to square one.  Again.  Then, after bathtime and a good cry, he was back to being extra sweet.  He brought me his third and final apology letter and read it over with me.  He promised that he was going to work “on a good attitude.”

So he went to bed.  He fell asleep in a second, which makes me think he was tired and worry that maybe that his ear isn’t healing so well?

Kate, on the other hand, was perfectly adorable all day.  Running around the house calling out “Santa is coming!  Santa is coming!”  Then, at bed time, was so worked up that when we explained that she had to go to sleep or Santa couldn’t visit, she gave us her classic pout and declared that she “didn’t want Santa at my house.”  The ying and yang of parenting: one child must always be driving the parent crazy.

Still, Santa decided to show.  With some big surprises.  This year, Santa was more than just Mom, too, but we’ll talk about that after the big reveal in the morning…