Holiday Nights

We've heard a lot of people say that Christmas is for children, but we don't think it necessarily has to be all for them. In fact, there are some parts of Christmas that ought to be kept for adults only, watching Christmas Vacation, for instance, or drinking eggnog with rum in it. Spending an evening in the dark, freezing cold at Greenfield Village's Holiday Nights festival is another tradition that is probably best left to an all adult crowd, or at least a sans toddler crowd (a truth we found out the hard way two years ago).

Last year, after our first failed attempt the year previously, we found friends who, thankfully, love the cold just as much as we do. Or maybe it's more that they enjoy good company, if we can so call ourselves, and a healthy dose of Christmas past. Either way, we had such a blast on our frigid evening last year that we decided to try again this year.

This year was possibly even better. The weather was significantly warmer, and we weren't feeling the rush to get home because our respective toddlers were spending the night with their respective grandparents. So we casually strolled the decorated streets of the village, enjoying Christmas greetings from everyone we passed while munching on roasted chestnuts pulled from the warm paper bags we bought at a nearby street vendor. We stopped in to chat with the tin smith, then the woman running the printing press. We watched them blow glass, and endured a short lesson in the school house. And you can't have a Holiday Nights evening without a hot drink and a few slices of hobo bread.

I don't know if fireworks were a part of Christmases past or not, somehow I doubt it, but they capped off the evening with a group sing in the center of town and a short display over the little lake. It was, really, a perfect and relaxing evening. The fact that we were, shortly thereafter, summoned home to retrieve our little boy, who was suffering from the nighttime discomforts of his first serious cold in his lifetime, did little to dampen the evening's spirits. It turned out to be a good thing that we headed home when we did, since the existing drizzle turned to ice when we were still 15 minutes shy of exiting the expressway, a weather anomaly that was likely to have only gotten worse had we waited the extra hour intended. It's wonderful when things just work out well.

The shopping. It's done.

Sinterklaasavond!

Saint Nicholas, the guy who is likely the fodder for our modern day, Americanized, secularized Santa Claus, is celebrated on his Saint Day, the day of his death, December 6th. St. Nicholas Day is celebrated in many European countries, but we are trying to emulate the Dutch, who make up a large part of our heritage, and they party down mostly on the eve of the feast day, or Sinterklaasavond. So on the 5th we gather in family numbers and make merry with holiday tunes, fun pakjes (presents), and Dutch food.

At the end of the evening's festivities we set our shoes by the fire, read a bedtime story, and hope that we've been good this year so that Zwarte Pieten won't come and whisk us away in the middle of the night. In the morning Calvin came running into our room asking if it was time to go look in our shoes just yet. Since he was still here, Zwarte Pieten must have deemed him a good boy. That must be why he got an orange, some pennies, and new Christmas pajamas in his shoes. For the rest of the family, Sinterklaas left a new Christmas book and Cooties. Thanks a lot Saint Nick.

There are more pictures in the December 2009 album, of course.

Christmas in Dexter

Our little village loves Christmas. All cities have their different way of celebrating the season. Dexter's version includes a weekend of sales, ice sculptures, reindeer, bazaars, tree lighting, feasts, and Santas. Last year we participated in all of the above, but this year the events were all scheduled for one day, and that day just happened to be Sinterklaasavond, so this year we were limited to the bazaars, the library book sale, and Santas.

Calvin thought breakfast with Santa at the Lighthouse Cafe was the bee's knees. What can be better than enjoying pancakes with blueberries and OJ while the big man in red asks you what you want for Chrismtas and continually lets out a jubliant "ho ho ho"? Jon and I enjoyed coffee and a rare meal of adult conversation, since the kid was so taken with watching St. Nick.

Breakfast energied us for the rush at the library book sale. Have I previously mentioned how fantastic our library book sales are? Well, forget it if I did. We don't need any more visitors—we'd like to keep all the books to ourselves. This trip supplied us with a few more classics (Portrait of a Lady! It's within the next few on my to read list, too) and the obligatory handful of children's books (when I picked Calvin up from his afternoon class last week his teacher mentioned to me how very obvious it was that he adores books—I was proud).

The book sale stop got us in the mood for shopping, so after that we hit up the three Christmas bazaars—the Girl Scouts (got a great handmade ornament), the senior center (got a few dandy flea market type items), and the musem (got some great hand mades). This was actually our first trip into the Dexter museum, and I'm intrigued enough to add it to our "must do in 2010" list. All the antiques (old fashioneds, according to Calvin) were pushed out of the way to make room for the various sale tables (hand mades and baked goods), and for Santa and Mrs. Claus (really, Mrs. Clause in a rather short and flirty claus outfit complete with tights and elf shoes). Calvin's second visit (of the day) with the man in red went equally as well as the first. He didn't want to leave.

All that shopping left us just hungry enough to hit up the Koney Island on the way home for their lunch with Santa event. That made Santa number three, and the activity never got old. Last year Calvin's first Santa visit was in the Dexter Gazebo, and we hadn't prepared him for the inevitable "what do you want?" quesiton. He answered with "an African wild dog" last year. This year we were just as lax in our preparation, but Calvin was equal to the task on his own—he had an entire list that he rattled off, clearly and precisely, to each and every Santa, and while the items may not have remained in the same order, they were all there. It also happens to be the same list that he worked out when talking to his grandmother about it a few weeks ago. There is something to be said for cosnistency, and for a good memory.

Thanksgiving is out, Christmas is in