Oh... I can't seem to get to bed on time. My soul is instinctively craving some kind of indulgence and I am scrapping for it where I can. I get scared when I think about tomorrow, and teaching, and schedule... I just now got David back. Sigh. And he's already having lengthy meetings with designers. It doesn't stop. Weston's had it too. He waited all afternoon (four hours) for Daddy to help with his invention. Poor kid.
There was a beautiful sunset tonight under the Chinook hood of clouds. I think that's partly why I have a headache: the drop in pressure.
Donovan is making more Pokemon cards and Weston has figured out that there's no Santa Clause. He just couldn't get past the idea that Santa didn't deliver what he and Donovan ordered. He shook the bell, he heard the jingle, he believed... but no... "Santa is a fake" he told us. He's pretty disappointed. We tried our best to talk in terms of St. Nicholas still being alive in the great cloud of witnesses and willing wonderful things for Christmas morning, but it didn't salve his wound. There's no magic if it's just Mom and Dad.
Then to top it off, the tooth fairy has officially been dismantled as well. Donovan swallowed a tooth, so we forgot to put something under his pillow til morning, but I was up and out of there, so I remembered the next evening. We were so busted. Donovan got two visits, and he could smell the infiltration in the room. Sigh.
I'm told the German word for disappointment actually means "losing one's illusion." Well, I suppose there's something right in that. Something about allowing old paradigms to break so newer, truer ones can build on a greater understanding of what is really real. Nonetheless, it still takes away the magic. But then there's that sunset... OK, there's still Mystery left.
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