This morning, Mrs. Mojo beamed as she showed me the dress that Nana bought the (no longer so) Wee One for the holidays. I sputtered, "Humbug! It's too early to deal with Christmas, go put that away!" And instantly I knew that was a mistake because I got The Look, but more to the point she responded, "Look at the calendar, it's thirty-one days to Christmas!"
Every year we have this spat, and every year I lose. To my mind Christmas should be a time of reflection, reverence and a bit of ribaldry. And stretching that out over umpteen days dilutes it. So I have made it a rule --"it is now a law of the Medes and the Persians and the Mojos" that we do not begin serious preparations for Christmas until three weeks out (discussions of logistics for major gifts and holiday dinners excepted).
Or so, at least, runs my official party line. However, Mrs. Mojo loves this season and takes it seriously. As the youth choir director at church, she begins preparations in mid-October(!). Being a prudent woman she does her shopping in early November. And as we approach Thanksgiving she begins tidying the house, not in preparation of company but in anticipation of putting up decorations. (NB one of the compromises that permits us to remain happily married is that I have zero role in holiday decorating other than erecting the tree itself [and the crêche, the years we have one].) And this rankles me, and so every year we have the argument about when the decorations actually go up and when we begin to play seasonal music (other than Christmas programs, which has already gone on for weeks).
And every year, right around this time, I lose the argument. LIke it's a ritual or something!
[Note: as Mrs. Mojo is growing increasingly expectante this time around, I have been promised that the actual amount of decoration this year will be limited. Mind you, I've heard that one before...]