Over the weekend, I dragged the big bins of Christmas decorations down from the attic.
Nephew 1 was so excited. His eyes, how they twinkled, as he opened box after box of carefully wrapped vintage glass ornaments.
Mine were filled with panic: visions of the two little boys, already deep in the grips of Santa Fever, invading my tiny, glass and glitter-filled space multiple times weekly, danced through my head.
So, back up to the attic with two still half-filled bins of decorations I went.
But the glass balls stayed behind.
In bowls and in vases, and on roll-reducing crochet doilies. And on much, much higher shelves than in years past.
And it looks like they're there to stay, at least for the next couple of years.
For this summer, those two will become three, and a new little bundle of awesome will be invading this space this time next year.
What a lucky aunt I am.