I am not an inarticulate person. I love words. In fact, most of my close friends would agree that when prompted, I can wax on and on about almost anything, if I’m truly passionate about something. Sometimes, if I’m really excited about dialoguing with someone, sentences often end with “and…”; I don’t realize I’m spewing until someone points out how an audio book on War and Peace could be performed with more brevity.
However, this morning…I was blind-sided and left speechless by an object of sheer euphoria and endless possibility….
I admit, I was completely thrown off-guard when The Mom dragged out a hulking box from under the tree this morning (and when I say dragged, I mean, dragged..like the Egyptians carrying large, massive blocks along miles and miles of desert to create an awe-inspiring pyramid…those blocks were probably smaller than this package).
The Mom looks better in a loin cloth, too.
It was gigantic, it was enormous, it was…beautiful. What on earth could it be??? In the grand scheme of things, I had already had an amazing Christmas. I was already owner of a brand-spanking new camera: I could have re-wrapped it in its Best Buy packaging and opened it up again and again, in front of a captivated audience consisting of my mom and dad. I could have even given up the traditional stocking gift of new underwear.
Miracle on 32nd Street 