It started when our son woke us up (way too) early. I made coffee in our new French Press for the first time. Jonathan wore his blue sweater and checkered shirt. Behr tried every way he could think of to put the branches of the Christmas tree in his mouth. I had to make the cinnamon rolls with our waffle maker. The house was cluttered in spots and the floor was in desperate need of mopping. But you know what? Some of those things might have been annoying, but none of that really mattered. Looking back, I choose instead to focus on how delicious + comforting the coffee tasted. That we laughed about our 'cinnamon roll waffles' and declared it a family tradition for all the Christmas mornings to come. And how I kept getting choked up with happiness over how sweet it all was.
The sun rose behind soupy clouds, and our living room was lit softly by the pale beams peeking through the curtains. I held Behr in my lap as Jonathan read the Christmas story from the Bible and then we all opened our gifts together. There isn't anything hugely significant to tell, at least not to you maybe. Just know that our first little Christmas as a family of three was simple, unassuming and completely magical.