I overheard something worth sharing just now.  The kids were playing school.  Gabriella (almost seven) was the teacher, as always, and Penelope (two) was the student sitting on the floor singing Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.  The lesson for the day was Christmas.  It went something like this:

The real Santa Claus is dead, Penelope.  But we pretend like he’s alive because it’s fun.  The real Santa Claus gave poor kids presents so we’re making presents for Yanci and Yoseph.  And I’m making scarfs for cold people.  What are you going to do?  You have to do something.  It’s Christmas, Penelope.  God gave you Jesus when you needed it.  What can you give somebody that needs something?  I want you to make a list.  Right.  Now.

Sometimes, despite all our mistakes, something good sticks.  Even if it comes out a little preachy, at least it’s in there, I thought.

Five minutes later, Gabriella asked me if she could have a camera for her near-Christmas birthday.  She promised to give it away to poor kids next Christmas “when it’s old or when it breaks.”

Oh well.