As a mother you try to make everything as wonderous and magical for the children, to keep on old traditions and develop new ones. My Grandparents always had a magical village under the tree with a train that seemed to get lost some where then appear again on the other side. I remember spending hours playing with the ice skaters who would glide across the mirrored pond, and all the little people who where frozen in time waiting for my sister and I to bring them back to life. As I watched my daughters playing with their new dinosaurs in the nativity set it took me back there, to the magical time that I had forgotten.
I cant remember any of the gifts really, just the anticipation, the loooong midnight mass and the inability to fall asleep, just spending hours lying there looking out the window, dreaming of what would be waiting for me under the tree. After finally falling asleep I would get up so early, Christmas eve was definately the longest and shortest night of the year.