Holiday spirit

I've been feeling like such a Scrooge. I was so annoyed when my favourite radio station switched to its all-Christmas format on November 22 that I spent the following week scanning through the dial looking for a new station I could tolerate. Seriously, people? Five weeks of "Jingle Bells" and "Silent Night"? And I hate that stupid sappy "Christmas Shoes" song! Why is Christmas a season, anyway?

I attempted my first major gift-shopping trip last weekend and came away empty-handed. Between us, my husband and I have 24 people to buy for, and you know what? I have no interest in shopping for anyone but my son. Christmas shopping is so stressful. I want to get nice, thoughtful gifts, but usually, after much indecision and many wasted hours at the mall, I end up buying just something at the last minute that I'm not really happy with. Multiply that by 24. No wonder I'm a Scrooge.

But yesterday, for the first time in several years, we put up our small, dilapidated Christmas tree, and even as I was lamenting its lameness and wishing a new one was in the budget (how about a 6.5-ft pre-lit, self-shaping pine?), Andrew ran up to it and said, "Oh, wow!" He doesn't know that it's lame. He just loves the flashing coloured lights and the shiny ornaments. I've never been much into decorating for the holidays — we're never home on the big day anyway — but I decided right then that we need more decorations.

It got me thinking about how much fun we're going to have with Andrew this year, now that he's old enough to be excited by everything that's going on. And now I'm a little bit excited too. With (only?) 19 days left till Christmas, I'm starting to find my holiday spirit.