Every last gift is wrapped.
Charlie has on his Christmas collar.
Henry is down with a cold. A marathon afternoon of Futurama was the only thing keeping him conscious all afternoon.
Charlie was concerned. Or sleepy. It's hard to tell which.
During dinner we watched Scrooged, which may very well become a holiday tradition around here. Henry was a fan.
I suggested we put a plate out for Santa, and I thought Henry was going to scoff at the idea--he's a BIG KID, you guys. But then he said he'd write a letter, too. It's pretty great.
(Okay, we're ready in every way except for not having an unbroken cookie in the house. We're hoping the chocolate makes up for it.)
We hope you all have a joyous Christmas. I'm so thankful to all of you for reading and commenting. You've changed my life, truly.