The Christmas Elf (my nine year old daughter) is peeing her pants today because the "Christmas Light House" has been switched to "on". Many gallons of gas and countless minutes over the next six weeks will be spent driving past this Stepford monument with my daughter humming in the backseat.
My twelve year old son has stopped asking for trips to this house. Although there once was a time when he begged and begged and begged.
So as long as The Christmas Elf asks, I will indulge her.
One day my backseat will be empty. Her small body, stretched long and lean, will have left for college or a job or a man or just a life in which she no longer needs my indulgences.
Perhaps then, when she's a woman with some jade to her eyes, I'll confess that while I always loved her joy, I often could not find my own during this time of year.
I hope that revelation comes as a surprise.