Christmas with the Munchkins

It’s Christmas at Ivan and Dasa’s house. The stockings are hung from the ceiling with care. Our Christmas tree, which is topped with a basenji angel, stands on a table. (Otherwise we’d have a tree with no ornaments on the first three feet from the floor.) We decorate with durability in mind. Should gravity or the wind cause our tree to fall, there are only nonbreakable ornaments so the munchkins would not be injured by broken ornament bits. We don’t put presents under our tree until moments before they are to be opened, and even then they are not left unguarded. Dasa might not be tempted, but Ivan is certain all packages are his. He’s very enthusiastic about opening presents.

During Ivan’s first Christmas with us, the shepherds in our Nativity scene did not watch their sheep all that carefully because little ceramic sheep strayed off the table into corners and between couch cushions. Since then, the shepherds have watched their flocks with due diligence and the sheep have not wandered away.

Our guests all have furry children, so we usually don’t have to belabor the safety rules: no chocolate, grapes, raisins, sugar-fee candy, onions or really any people food for the munchkins. Plus, since Ivan’s surgery, his diet is quite limited. If guests are snookered by the starving orphan looks, they can dispense a few pieces of freeze-dried chicken to the malnourished little dogs in holiday sweaters.

We visit people who have holiday tableaus arranged throughout their houses, and marvel that glass dishes of ornaments sit unharmed on coffee tables, Santas with fluffy beards safely adorn entryways, and stuffed animals in holiday finery sit at small tables around mini trees without mass chaos and heavy casualties. Mostly though, we marvel that we are so blessed with Ivan and Dasa. They are both healthy and happy, and that’s the very best Christmas present we could request. Nothing else on Santa’s list could even come close.