Days 4, 5 and 6

Three advent stockings all in one day.  Why?  Because when I said on Day 1 that I would share a stocking a day, I didn't realize that would mean blogging every day.  I know, you would think it would be fairly clear but I didn't understand what I had committed to until Day 4.  You see, when I started blogging a couple of months ago, I made a pact with myself that I would blog often but only if I wanted to, only if I was feeling it.  If I didn't feel like I had something to share, then I shouldn't really expect others to want to read.  Also, I didn't want it to become another thing on my virtual list of things to do.  (Virtual list because I'm not actually a list person.  I make about three lists a year and they do work.  I love ticking things off and tend to be more productive but I have issues with sitting down and making a list.  Often these issues have no explanation.  It's just the way my mind works.)  I don't want blogging to become a chore.  So I decided to wait until the time was right and that would be today.

The Christmas decorations are slowly making an appearance throughout the house.  Not only do I not make lists, I also tend to do things in bits and pieces instead of all at once.  Again, just the way my mind works.  Mike says I may be responsible for Keegan's lack of focus.  I'm starting to think he might be right.  Anyways, one of my favourite decorations is an old stuffed Santa doll that belonged to my grandmother.  I don't know how old he is but he must be at least 50 years old.  Here he is.

Isn't he beautiful?  Love his rosy cheeks and blue eyelids.  He was one of the first decorations my mother and grandmother pulled out of the boxes each year.  I was allowed a few precious minutes to cuddle and play with him each year.  Then a piece of string was tied around his neck and he was strung up from a corner in the living room.  Yep, I said strung up.  Oddly enough, I didn't think anything strange about this until I was telling the story to Mike and his brother the first Christmas I inherited him and I saw the looks on their faces.  Maybe it was a little morbid.  But it kept him safe, right?  And we always knew where he was, right?  So I continue the tradition except for the stringing up part.  Instead, he sits on a shelf and the boys are allowed to play with him . . . sometimes.  The first time he was launched through the air, he was promptly returned to his shelf.  But I do allow some cuddling time.

  
Supervised, of course.