My youngest daughter Sabrina’s version of “Jingle Bells” was mostly on-key, but the lyrics were hopelessly butchered. The Kindergartener sang absently as she sat on the floor happily playing with the figures from an Advent calendar:
“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingles on the wave.
Oh what fun, what a long, long song
for a white horse eating hay…
The lilting rendition made me smile. She lovingly caressed each calendar piece, then placed it into a circle that would enclose Baby Jesus.
Sabrina abruptly stopped singing. “Mommy, where’s the baby?” she said with a perplexed look.
Baby Jesus had gone missing again. I understood, because the only Christmas decoration in our home that ever seemed to disappear was a Baby Jesus. Everything else stayed safely packed from year to year, but Baby Jesus was always on the road.
My first runaway was the Baby Jesus from a Nativity…
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