The Lustre of Mid-day

Zoe has really gotten into Christmas in a big way -or as we say around her nanny "le fievre du Noel." I have to confess this malady has grown from seeds I planted, and I have no shame about the harvest. I love this season just about as much as when I was a kid, even understanding all the cynical arguments that it is a corrupted commercial holiday. I completely buy into the mythology of the season, not unlike the main character in "Elf," or Mr. Gailey in "Miracle on 34th Street."

So Zoe has quickly picked up on anything Christmas or -better- Santa-related. Any music of any genre that is quasi-holiday is cool with her, and any resonant male singer is Santa Claus (Bing Crosby, Harry Connick, Jr., Nat King Cole, etc.). She has even begun to ask that we turn off the music and just sing the songs together, with her gettting many of the words to Jingle Bells, Rudolph, Silent Night, The Little Drummer Boy, and even My Favorite Things.

Of course this has spilled over into her taste in books as well. Most of her holiday-themed books are unfortunately out of reach in a Minneapolis storage unit, but we do have a few, most of which are even too sugary sweet for my taste. But we all three can agree that we love Clement C. Moore's "A Visit from St. Nicholas (known also as Twas the Night Before Christmas)". We have a large-format version illustrated by rococo-cute specialist Mary Englebreit, with lots of little candy-cane and elf details on each page, and Zoe has just flipped for it.

So a few days ago, we were reading another book at nap time, and she noticed that one of the pictures featured a snowscape in the moonlight. She excitedly exclaimed, "Daddy, the moon on the breast of the newfallen snow gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below!" Pretty cool.