Christmas morning, rocking our 13 month old daughter while she sucked down a bottle of milk, I watched television try to make the day a spectacle, and came to a wonderful realization, for me, every day is Christmas. I rarely become emotional, sappy, but there was no getting around that one, wonderful realization.
My daughter is not old enough to understand Christmas, even that she gets presents on that day, but that can wait until next year when Lisa and I can share the morning with her together. This year, it was like every alternate weekend, where I am home alone with my daughter while her mom works. I call them my Mollydays, and I enjoy every minute. In the summer, we bike, with her in the trailer behind me, at first with the big bear that kept her from flopping around. I can only marvel at what we will do on our future "Mollydays," as the world opens up to her, and look forward to every moment.
Now it's too cold for bike rides, but we get along well enough. Christmas morning was like every other day, and this year, that's fine, because my days are exceptional.