Every year for the past ten years my Christmas dinners have been a round table of wayward folks. Cole, our friends, his coworkers, random guys he knew who were far from home, or just plain alone, or didn't want to have to do the fam-thing because of so many reasons. We've always hosted a big dinner to give people a hot meal and some new memories, and because I think I'd rather die than think someone was alone on Christmas.
I can't tell you how many years straight Loch and I got shitfaced on cheap wine and stuck Cole with the dishes. I can't tell you how many years in a row Jacob sat across the table after eating almost half of all the food and started a discussion about going out for dessert when everyone else, who had eaten a fraction of what he had, were stuffed. Or how many times we sang Christmas carol parodies until we couldn't stop laughing. I can't say how many times I left the table at the end of the meal and went outside for a fresh breath of air only to have Jake sneak up on me with some funny little present, a hug and a wish for a Merry Christmas in which we held each other a little too hard, a little too close and perhaps a little bit too often in one night.
This year I'm out of luck. We've all got colds, it's been a long, crowded year and for the first time in recent memory there appear to be no stragglers in need of an emergency Christmas dinner. Not to mention it's our first real honest-to-goodness actual Christmas together, married and together.
And since we're so far behind this year, Jacob asked me to make a list and he went to the grocery store to get everything while I helped Henry with a project.
He came home and we switched places, I went to put away the groceries and he sat down with Henry to see what progress we had made.
Jake!
What is it?
You forgot to get the carrots.
No I didn't.
They were on the list.
Bridget, I hate carrots.
What are you talking about? You eat them all the time.
Raw. I hate cooked carrots.
But..every year you've eaten them. I've seen you. You clean the plate.
Right. Yes.
Okay, you've lost me.
Bridget, I only eat them because you make them. But truth be told, I can't stand them cooked.
You only ate them because I made them?
Because you made them, princess.
Well, now, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I think I could fall in love with you.
So we'll skip them? And I love you too.
Are you kidding me? I have to make them now! It'll be a new tradition.
He smiled, defeated, and looked at Henry. Henry reassured him,
That's okay, Jake. I hate it when mommy makes carrots too.
