Did St Nick fill up your kids' stockings or shoes last night?
Last night we read the story of Saint Nicholas (always a hit with our own Nicholas), and our stockings were hung, waiting to be filled.
After the story, Nicholas had some questions. Like, How does St Nicholas get in the house? It's a valid question. Our girls know who plays the role of St Nick and the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy, and in fact the boys know who plays everyone too, but for some reason Saint Nicholas is real to them.
So, how does St Nick get in the house? Through the door of course. "But wait" thinks Nicholas "isn't he dead?" I remind him that the bishop Nicholas lived about 1700 years ago, so yes, he's dead now. The girls chime in with "He's a ghost," which leads to "Then I guess he doesn't need to come through the door because he can just come through the wall."
Nicholas ponders. Nicholas walks over to dad and climbs up next to him. Nicholas whispers to dad "I think I'm a little bit scared of Saint Nicholas, because I'm a little bit scared of ghosts."
This morning, all thoughts of ghosts were banished. The kids got new t-shirts, new goggles (hey, it's like 90 degrees outside), the boys had coloring books from an aunt, the girls had hairbands from great-grandma. But more special than all that is what Ian and I discovered as we played St Nick at midnight last night.
The girls had already come out and placed their own little gifts and candy treats in everyone's stockings. Rebecca had written a card to me:
Happy sante Nicholas Day! I'm so glad that you are my mom. Thank you for washing my cloes, feeding us, helping us when we are sick. I thingk about Sante Nicholas day I thingk of you in a good way, of how you represent my mom.
Her spelling is bad, her phrasing is a little off, and none of that matters. Her heart is much bigger than I give her credit for. When I think of Saint Nicholas, I see his giving traits in my Rebecca.