Filed under: The Baby Diaries | Tags: Alps, carollers, Christmas, France, French, infant, mulled wine, Pere Noel, Santa Claus, sprite, vin chaud
āThere’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.ā Erma Bombeck
When my first nephew was a child, I remember thinking that Christmas was definitely for children. He āoohedā and āaahedā at the Christmas lights, the decorations, the colourfully wrapped packages, and his excitement for everything was so palpable that it became infectious for us grownups, making our Christmas truly joyous and warm-hearted.
Now I have a child of my own. And Iām in the French Alps, which is an idyllic setting for the holidays. Itās snowing here as I write, and the chalets everywhere are emitting tufts of smoke from their chimneys. There are Christmas lights along the streets, and a huge Christmas tree in the village square. Moreover, there are all sorts of activities in honour of the Christmas season: Pere Noel (Santa Claus), will pass through the village on a sleigh Christmas Eve and Christmas day; the local community centre hosts animated Christmas films most evenings; there are carollers and little musical concerts with flutes and violins and even accordions; snow āspritesā will ski down the slopes all day Christmas Eve; there is a torchlight ski with the children from the local school skiing in decorative formations down the slopes; there are Christmas story readings at the local bibliotheque (library); and, of course, Midnight Masses in every chapel and church that dots the countryside. Additionally, each of these celebrations provides the additional luxury of vin chaud (hot wine) and chocolat chaud (hot cocoa), courtesy of our local mairieās office (and our various habitation taxes – fees we pay to live in the province). I intend to take my son to most of these events, even if he canāt quite grasp what is happening. My hope is that some part of his brain will register the festivities, the gathering of people in song, music and celebration, and it will begin his love affair with this season of the heart. At home, I find myself singing the classic Christmas songs to him, such as āJingle Bellsā and āWhite Christmasā in anticipation for his understanding the pleasure of this season.
But I may be optimistic. Just short of nine-months-old, my wee one is able to pick up a toy and throw it, but not to crawl over and grab it, so Iām not sure if his sensory register is sophisticated enough to make any connections between the specific time of year and the celebration. Heās also eating a mushed up version of Christmas dinner, that doesnāt quite give the same pleasure as loading oneās plate full of gorgeous, especially tasty offeringsā¦ah well, itās an excuse to attend the festivities and to eat to my heartās content!
Filed under: Letters to Leo | Tags: Christmas, infant Christmas, Pere Noel, Rhone Alps, Santa Claus
It was your first Christmas this year. Since spending the winter holidays with Danny (your cousin) when he was just under two years old, Iāve believed that Christmas is best when shared with children. The wonder and the magic of it allā¦the lights, the decorations, the gifts, the music, the stories, the cartoons, and the celebratory spirit shared with family and friends.
Your father and I took you to see the Christmas tree and Maireās office lit in the town square, and enjoyed a glass of vin chaud while you shook your little legs in excitement at the crowds and watched all the kids running around. We took you to see Pere Noel as he sat in the back of a horse-drawn cart (really!) while you rather rudely stared at the people behind us smoking. We took you to see carolers and a flutist while you played with my scarf. We bought you your first sled and took you out for a wee slide in the first, big snow of the season while you chuckled as Oscar (our family cat) bounded around in the snow and āharrumphedā at us for making you wear mittens. We kept you up past your bedtime on both the 24th (your fatherās Christmas) and the 25th (my Christmas) so that you could eat with us while you dangled a straw from your high chair for Oscar to play with.
While you certainly enjoyed the fact that your father, me and Oscar were with you all day, and you enjoyed the ribbons on and from the presents (as Oscar does), Iām not convinced that you understood or cared that it was Christmas, with all the attending activities, and that you got some new clothes and toys. Youād go nude if you could, my little savage, and anything to bite on will do to play with.
Being a spring baby like your cousin Danny (your four days apart in terms of the month born), you, too, will be just under two years old next Christmas. Iām positive the greediness of later childhood will not have set in yet (or ever, I hope) and like him, youāll marvel at the lights, the decorations, the gifts, the music, the stories, the cartoons, and the presence and activity of family and friends. I look forward to our future Christmases together, particularly in the picturesque Alps, and to introducing you to this āseason of the heart.ā