As long as we know in our hearts what Christmas ought to be, Christmas is.
Because of a mix-up in transportation in concert with this storm:
One of my chicks may not be making it home for Christmas. Oh, he’d be safe, warm, and well-fed at our in-laws who live near the college,
but he wouldn’t be home with the rest of the flock. It would be the first time, *ever*, that one of our chicks would not be sitting on the top stairs along with the other early risers, sucking on a candy cane from the jingle bell bouquet left on bedroom door handles by Santa, and patiently waiting until *everyone* woke and gathered before racing down the stairs to the festivities that is Christmas morning.
Sometimes, this pushing-the-chicks-out-of-the-nest–to-live-on-their-own thing really stinks.
Who knows though, maybe there’s still time for a little bit of Christmas magic.
I do believe, I do believe.
We’ll just have to wait and see.
See you next week.
As always, happy weekend everyone, health and happiness (and safety) to your flock.