When I swung open the door Christmas Eve to a home covered in sugar, dough and cookie cutters, I can safely say the holiday spirit wasn’t flowing at an all-time high through my body.
Instead, I was wondering why I had just spent time at work, while the other inhabitants of my home were making a major mess.
“What happened?” I asked to anyone in the room willing to listen.
My daughter, wife and 6-month-old son looked at each other perplexed by the question. They didn’t understand why someone would question such a mess the day before Christmas.
“Sometimes making memories are messy,” my wife replied.
There’s not much I can say to that, especially considering her answer received the nodding approval from my daughter, and although my son doesn’t have the ability to do much yet, he does have a knack for messes, so I knew he would go along with his mother this one time.
And as I reflected on that passing comment, it made perfect sense this time of year.
Too often we forget that memories are being made every day, especially during the holiday season. Baking sugar cookies on Christmas Eve may have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but who knows, that may be something that sticks with our daughter long after the sugary contents of the cookies digest.
I doubt my parents thought when they placed our original Nintendo in 1990 under our tree in Flinstones wrapping paper, that all three of their children would remember not only the wrapping paper, but all the times we fought over the controllers to play the now “antique” gaming system.
So when 7 a.m. struck Wednesday and my daughter rushed downstairs to see that Santa and his reindeer gobbled up the goodies on the kitchen table and left several presents under our tree, I remembered to slow down a bit and let the messes — and memories — pile up.