In 2006 we started a new tradition. After the end of the Christmas Eve service, we get into the car and we drive about 12 hours, arriving at my mother’s house around 9 a.m.

I took this picture last year, and my mother turned it into a Christmas card for us this year.

Now don’t be upset if you don’t get one, it will no doubt fall on Tracey’s shoulders to send them out and there are a limited number of them.

This is my best picture ever. I’m sure it’s far from perfect and someone who knew photography could have done it better.

But this is the picture I carry in my head while we’re driving home on a night where even the 18-wheelers are off the road.

It wasn’t posed, Ethan was looking at the lights, or looking at the snow, or both, and I’m not even sure that he knew I was getting ready to take the picture.

This is what I think of when I think of Christmas: sitting by the big picture window in my mom’s house, especially if there’s Christmas music on, or maybe even more so if it’s totally quiet.

It wasn’t Ethan I used to imagine looking out that window, it was me I used to remember looking out that window as a kid.

There’d be a huge tree in the corner, no doubt far too big for the room. It would be decorated within an inch of its life, and underneath would be enough presents that you’d have to look hard to see the tree skirt.

There’s the ancient manger scene in its ancient shoebox and even more ancient tissue paper wrapped around the pieces.

There’s the knit stockings, each one with the names of the three kids on them, that have been around since before my memory begins, each one stuffed with stuff, and most of it wrapped, to add just that much more enjoyment to the day, just that much more anticipation and surprise (yes, even when the “surprise” looked remarkably like a can of shaving cream, or a box of toothpaste, or stick of deodorant.

My childhood was imperfect, as almost everyone’s was at times, and my childhood was wonderful, as almost everyone’s was at times, but this picture — first with me, and now with Ethan — reminds me of the best of times, the best of moments, the best of family and friends, the best of life.

It had, as you probably guessed, nothing to do with the presents, although I never turned them down of course.

It had everything to do with moments like these, when whatever else was going on and had gone on and would go on later seemed to just disappear.

You can’t manufacture them, you can’t recreate them, and if you try you’ll fail.

All you can do is enjoy them whenever they come along.

I took the first picture, asking “Does this make any sense?”

As I took the first one, Sadie put her nose on the bed. “Well at least that’s something,” I thought.

Then, by the time I was done looking at the preview of the 2nd picture, I saw that she was climbing in.

She slept there the whole night.

Ethan suggested that we buy the bed for her a few weeks ago. I was sure that she’d never sleep in it, nor would Sophie (who can still jump up on the couch, which Sadie no longer can).

After 2 days we went back to the store to get a second dog bed, because they both wanted to sleep in it. Sophie spends most nights in hers. Sadie will sleep in it, then get out, then get back in, then go somewhere else, then get back in.

“I’m going to renew my license,” she said, “I have to do it today.”

We waved her goodbye and went in to wrap her present.

She called a few minutes later and asked if I would bring her wallet to her.

She had forgotten to bring her license to renew her license.

What’s priceless about this is not just the irony (although it is rich and deep), but the fact that it is just the sort of thing that I would do. Indeed, Tracey will often call me before she comes to pick up Ethan from preschool to find out what (not “if”) I have forgotten. “Be ye not unequally yoked together” the Scripture says. Well we’re both rather uneven, but we’re yoked together, does that count ;-?

Number Two: Two coupons came in the (e)mail for a restaurant that I’ll call “Restaurant B”

One was a “Thanks for signing up for our email list!” message, with a coupon for a free dessert. This, despite the fact that we had signed up for the list a long time ago, over a year ago I’d say.

The second was for Tracey, wishing her a happy birthday and offering her a “A FREE Entrée” with the purchase of “any of our delicious entrees”

I thought the choice of “delicious” was interesting.

“Do you have to choose one of the delicious entrees to get a free one? Do they cost more if they are delicious?”

I also thought it was interesting that they only used the é for “Entrée” but not for “entrees” — but that’s just me.

We decided to go to “Restaurant B” for dinner.

“Which coupon should we use?” I asked, since they both expire in a week and we could only use one of them.

“The one for the Free Entrée” she said, both capitalizing and correctly punctuating the word Entrée, since she used to take French.

She continued: “I bet if I tell them that it’s my birthday, they’ll give me a free dessert anyway.”

With a brain like that, is it any wonder I Love her?

(P.S. They did. A giant warm brownie with a gigantic scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. She took one bite, announced herself full and pushed it towards me. Did I hit the jackpot or what ;-?

Happy thirtysomething to my lovely bride.