Sometimes I tell stories of shepherds and angels while we drink hot chocolate.
Sometimes we get messy, making snowmen out of old Mason jars while listening to Bing Crosby sing about white Christmases.
Sometimes our hearts are merry and warm, bursting with joy.
And sometimes short stories take thirty minutes because little boys need drinks, are annoying there brother, and can't stop making strange noises.
And sometimes we get messy and complain the entire time even though we know a little soap and water will take care of the stick on our fingers.
And sometimes we never get around to making that hot chocolate because Mom's feeling a little frazzled.
And sometimes little boys are so shocked that Mom is yelling that they jump right out of there chairs, because Mom rarely yells.
In the end sometimes all you can do is search for the joy in the midst of all the chaos, breathe deep, and keep it real.