Long before our grandson was a twinkle in any one's eye, The Preacher and I have dreamed of watching one of the Christmas stop-action animated movies with a grandchild snuggled between us. (The first dream was taking a grandchild to Cracker Barrel, but the stop-action animated Christmas movie was a very, very close second.)
As fate would have it, tonight was the night. The rest of the family had worship practice, and after a long day (that included a basketball tournament game) we were home, exhausted, just the two of us, with Little Britches.
We tried putting him to bed at his usual bedtime, which is about 7pm. He flat-out would have none of it. So Pop-pop got him back up, and we sat in the living room and turned on the TV.
There it was. Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town!
We looked at each other, and I said, "I'm so glad he doesn't want to go to bed!"
And so it was. We passed him back and forth between us, took turns rocking him and bouncing him, through the whole show. He watched a remarkable amount of it...truly watched....usually while sitting on Pop-pop's lap. We were in sequel-parenting-heaven.
Then, towards the very end of the movie, Timothy turned to face his Poppy, snuggled in to be rocked to sleep....and murmured, "Pop Pop Pop"....
...and then blew Poppy a sleepy kiss.
We. Were. Solid. Gone.
Talk about your Christmas Magic Moment.