A few days ago we made our annual trip to the Christmas tree farm. Our wet winter hadn't done wonders for the trees but when we phoned to see if there were any good ones left the owner mentioned that there was a particularly endearing "short and fat one." Short and fat suited us just fine.
Che was jumping about with excitement, not really knowing what to do with all that happy energy. His legs and arms were all akimbo as he ran between the rows. 'Santas' fell from the trees, catching the afternoon light - the Australian Christmas snow.
We found our tree, chopped it down, carried it to the buggy and took it to the car.
We bundled in, inhaled the sweet scent of pine and all of a sudden it really felt like Christmas.
Boxes of decorations were unpacked, we realised (as we do each year) that the lights weren't working, the elves made their way onto the mantle and the Christmas books finally had their own special basket.
And only then did the beautiful, innocent, palpable excitement of a little boy at Christmas become infectious.
"...the night begins to thrum with magic, the kind of magic that makes reindeer fly. ..The Christmas magic is here at last." - The Christmas Magic.