Today, December 4th, 2017, I realized that I didn’t buy my kids an advent calendar. I also realized that I am okay with that.
Since I can remember, I’ve bought our children the cheap .99 advent calendars. You know, the ones with the not so great chocolate pieces behind the little tiny paper door that you could barely see the number on.
Each day, usually before breakfast, the kids, would come out of their rooms, scampering to the calendar with their name on it (we don’t share our advent chocolates) to open the tiny little door and pull out the tiny piece of not so great chocolate and inspect it. Most of the time we couldn’t even tell what the shape was meant to be. “Oh”, I’d say confidently while lying through my teeth. “It’s a bell!” or “It’s holly!” And they were satisfied enough to pop the little chocolate morsels in their mouths and eagerly await the same routine tomorrow.