This assignment included a complete re-do of our basement so that it could be made into a gameroom for two little boys who were going to receive some big gameroom elements for Christmas.
We toiled night after night through most of December, painting, rebuilding tables, going through boxes that hadn't been gone through since we'd moved, hanging things up, taking things down. All while conducting our other life activities like evening meetings, work, church stuff, basketball, etc. We saw 1:00 a.m. more times than we'd have liked.
You see, Santa had purchased an air hockey/pool table to go in this basement, and had cleverly hidden it in the neighbor's garage.
On the night before Christmas Eve, we trudged through the snow many, many times to retrieve the many, many pieces of the game table.
And, wouldn't you know it, as we heaved the 4,000-pound table top down the stairs, something magical happened.
It got stuck. Wouldn't budge. We strained and we swore, and it would not move.
So we did what any Santa's helpers would do. We broke out the crowbar and hammer, and we knocked a hole in the ceiling and we removed a step. And we cried. And we swore a lot more. Because, you see, in these old houses things are not made to be taken apart. They are made to stay together, like welded iron, for years and years and years. So "taking apart" equals the destroying of important pieces of a home that will probably never be duplicated because, well, they just don't make wood like they used to.
Fortunately, by 1:00 a.m., the table slid down the remaining stairs, past the mangled ceiling, and into its place in the new basement gameroom.
By 1:00 a.m. the next night, we had it all assembled.
And on Christmas morning, after reading the hidden note from Santa, the boys ran downstairs (pausing only momentarily where there are no longer certain steps) and were delighted to find Santa's gift.
It was at this moment that E and I realized what lengths we'd gone to in an effort to preserve the myth of Santa in this house, and to give complete credit for all of the work to someone who doesn't even exist. We felt a little duped. We wondered if the elves feel this way, too.
He's a mythical hero who has exerted a lot of control over our time and our checkbook. He's a tricky guy, that Santa.
We also spent a weekend visiting our Wisconsin grandparents, who have a lot more snow than we do.
As if that wasn't the makings of enough fun, they received a Wii and some new DS games from their grandparents. The joy was palpable. We had a fabulous meal with Grandpa Pat and Carol, helped Grandpa Joe with some snow removal, and cozied up in the new sweaters that Grandma Anna knit for us.
On Christmas day, the Minnesota and Canada contingent of relatives came over to our house and initiated the Wii and the air hockey table. Aunts, Uncles, Grandmas, Parents and Kids all gamed the day away, while pausing intermittently for huge meals and sugary snacks.
