Yesterday morning was fairly miserable. Frankie Valentine had to visit the pediatrician for a nasty cough. I thought I had said good bye to my cold but it was back in full force. I schlepped both babies to the doctor's office in a daze, head pounding.
Some lady in a Jaguar honked at me when I didn't realize the light had turned green. Then she gave me a scuz as she drove by. Isn't it funny how the birth of our Savior brings out the impatience and nastiness in some people?
I didn't want to go, but the craft store is right next to the doctor's office and I really needed some supplies. The Bird wouldn't sit down in the cart. Frankie started crying. The line snaked to the back of the store.
I just wanted to curl up and die right there next to the yarn isle when I heard a voice. "You need to change places with me." She was loud. She got everyone's attention. Was she talking to me? "You need to come up here and trade me places." She was talking to me.
"Oh that's okay. Ha ha." I said because that's what I do, and quite frankly everyone was watching and I was embarrassed.
"No. You need to come up here. Everyone, I'm trading her places." She came back to me. She was small and old and delightfully spry. She had on a pink leisure suit. She touched Frankie's fuzz head. "Honey, I've been in your shoes. Go check out."
And that is how I was rocketed to the front of the impossibly long line on a Tuesday afternoon in Michael's craft store. That is how a little Christmas spirit was rubbed off onto me.
It is my first Christmas gift of the season. I plan to pass it on.